


After Henry

by HelenaHGWells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Past Abuse, Romance, True Love, magical queer ladies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaHGWells/pseuds/HelenaHGWells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelena finally succeeds in exacting revenge on Regina: Henry is dead.</p><p>In the aftermath, two grieving mothers come together to avenge their son, and to learn how to carry on living when the person they loved most is gone. In the process, they figure out that they might need each other more than they could ever have believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> This story obviously deals with grief and death, but it will also get into past trauma: Regina's unwilling relationship with Leopold, and Emma's past in care. I'll include specific trigger warnings at the start of each chapter, but take care as you read.

It has been three days since Henry died.

72 hours.

4320 minutes.

This is how she measures time now.

There have been other markers over the years; time before Daniel and after Daniel. Before Leopold and after Leopold. Before her father’s death, and after. Before the curse and after the curse. Before Henry… and now after Henry. None has been more painful than this. At one point there was a ‘before Emma/after Emma,’ because it seemed like because of that woman she might be about to lose everything- her son, her town, her whole life. But somehow they had moved through those interminable months that seemed to consist of an endless string of betrayals and hurt and failure. And Henry was still there, still her son, still loved her. And Emma became a friend. And even Snow and Charming became something like family.

But all that’s gone now. Or rather, it doesn’t matter, because Henry is dead.

The funeral is today, but she can’t bring herself to get ready; can’t bring herself to go and stand among mourners and watch her son be lowered into the ground. It’s too final. And she doesn’t want to be with them; the people of this town who once would have loved to see her broken, who perhaps still do, who probably think she’s to blame for Henry’s death along with every other terrible thing that’s ever happened to Storybrooke.

And maybe they’re right.

It’s that possibility she really can’t face. She is sure Emma will blame her. After all, Zelena was only on this path of destruction because she hated Regina. And maybe Regina hadn’t done anything to warrant this hate; maybe this was all down to Cora. But the fact remained that Zelena would never have come to Storybrooke if it weren’t for Regina. And Henry would certainly be alive- that was beyond any doubt. It had taken a while, but Zelena had finally figured how how to destroy her sister.

The green witch had stuck around just long enough to gloat; to see the look on Regina’s face when her son’s life was extinguished. Then she had evaporated to god knows where- out of harm’s way; out of Regina’s reach. And Regina had been left with only the broken body of her son. Her son who she is supposed to burry today.

Zelena will be back; Regina is sure of this. You don’t hold on to that much hate and hurt and anger for that long and then not stick around to watch the effects of your final, triumphant blow. Zelena will want to watch Regina suffer. She knows because she spent twenty-eight years living her vengeful fantasy against Snow and Charming. Granted it had got old pretty quickly, and she had soon realized she had simply created another prison for herself. But at first, watching Mary Margaret alone, knowing she would never find her prince, and having her cower in front of the mayor… well that had been very, very sweet. And Regina is glad that she and Zelena are similar in this way, because it means she will get another shot at her sister.

When that murdering witch returned to gloat, Regina would be ready for her.

\---

Emma didn’t show up at the funeral either. Snow was beside herself, unable to decide whether she should abandon the ceremony to go and look for her daughter, or stay and pay her respects to her beloved grandson, or put the whole thing on hold so she could do both. Mostly she just fretted with indecision until David, ever the voice of reason, reminded her that if Emma didn’t want to come to the funeral, there was no amount of persuasion that would convince her otherwise. She needed space, and they needed time to grieve themselves.

The service was no less crowded without Emma; Henry was well-loved and every member of the town turned out. Still, his mother’s absence was felt- both his mothers, Snow noted. She also noted the general sense of unease from the crowd at the uncertainty this absence created. Where were Henry’s mothers? What were they doing? What was going to happen next? What did this kind of grief look like from two unbelievably powerful witches?

Snow held baby Neal to her a little more tightly, leaned into David’s embrace as he put his arm nervously around her, tried to focus on what they had all come together for, to say goodbye to Henry, instead of this overwhelming sense of impending doom.

\---

Emma didn’t know where she was walking to until she got there. When she got up this morning she had every intention of going to the funeral; that’s what she was supposed to do, what was expected of her. It’s what you do when someone you love dies. It had seemed important to have a funeral for Neal; to lay him to rest, to say goodbye, to be with her family. But the idea of doing the same with Henry… it made her pulse race and her black dress feel too tight and her muscles clench like they might jump out of her skin.

She tore off the black garb, threw on her jeans, and walked out of the apartment before Mary Margaret and David even knew what was happening.

Outside she felt the cool of the crisp fall air against her skin, the brightness of a white sky obscured by clouds, the stillness of a town after a battle. There was no one on the street, no sound but the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. Everyone was in their homes preparing themselves and their families to go to the service. She was alone. It was quiet.

She started walking.

The park by the water was empty. Of course no one would be here this morning. All the kids would be with their parents, being kissed a little more often, held a little more tightly, feeling sorry but also guiltily relieved and thankful because terrible things can happen but not to them, not yet, not today.

Today it’s Emma who has to deal with this terrible loss. Emma and Regina.

Just as she thinks of the other woman, Emma looks up and sees Regina there, stopped a little distance from the park, watching her. Slowly, uncertainly, she makes her way to the bench where Emma sits.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asks as Regina stands awkwardly, unsure if she should sit, if she is welcome, if Emma wants to be alone, if she’s irritated at Regina’s presence interrupting her quiet.

“I don’t know. I was just walking…” Regina trails off, looks out at the park where she had taken Henry so often over the years, where he had first tried to convince Emma that fairytales were real, where he had hidden the book that contained all their histories, where she had torn down and destroyed everything with bulldozers in a desperate attempt to hold on to what was hers, to keep everything from changing, to stop Henry or Emma from ever learning the truth.

In the end it hadn’t mattered. Her desperate actions had caused fraught tensions and pushed her son further away but he had come back to her. He had loved her. She had brought him to this playground again on better terms, as a better person, with no more secrets.

This place has so many memories, good and bad. She knows Emma must feel the same.

Emma is watching her, looking like she has come to the same conclusion. She gives Regina a small, tired smile. “Do you want to sit?”

They sit side by side, looking out at the ocean in a sad, bleak sort of companionable silence until Regina finally says, “You’re not going to the funeral.”

It’s a statement more than a question; she knows the answer.

Emma shakes her head. “I just couldn’t…”

She breaks off, not sure how to explain exactly why she couldn’t; exactly what she’s feeling. And then at the same time realizing she doesn’t have to, because Regina knows exactly what she feels. Because Regina is here for the same reasons.

They are quiet again for a while, with only the wind blowing blowing softly, the waves lapping at the shore, each taking comfort in the proximity of the other, the relief at not having to speak because they both know, they both feel it.

A dark figure appears in the distance and Regina feels Emma stiffen. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“Hook,” Emma groans.

Regina sees she’s right; the pirate is swiftly making his way towards them wearing his trademark hangdog look; his eyeliner seemingly laid on even thicker today, shoulders hunched over sympathetically.

“I just can’t deal with him right now,” Emma sounds panicky. “I know he wants to help but I just can’t- I can’t-”

Regina acts before she really thinks about what she’s doing, reacting to the emotion in Emma’s voice, to the kindred spirit she now seems to be.

“Take my hand.”

Emma looks at her, only hesitating a moment before enclosing Regina’s proffered hand in her own. Smoke swirls around them, obscuring Hook from view as he approaches, Emma just catching a look of surprise and hurt on his face.

And then they disappear.


	2. Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific trigger warnings for this chapter, just continued discussions of death and grief.

Emma’s stomach lurches and she stumbles forward, rocked by the sudden momentum. The hand she holds steadies her, and as the smoke dissipates she sees the familiar surroundings of Regina’s kitchen.

 

It takes her a moment to realize that she’s still got Regina’s hand in a vice-like grip, though the room is no longer swimming and the feeling of nausea is receding. She relinquishes her hold, smiling shy thanks.

 

“You’ll have to show me how you do that- I could use the ability to pull a disappearing act whenever I want.”

 

Regina smiles a little shyly in return, trying to rub the feeling back into her hand from where Emma was holding on as if for dear life. “You still have magic; you could learn.”

 

“I’d probably teleport myself into a wall or the ocean or something,” Emma replies, self deprecating as usual.

 

Regina wants to point out that Emma’s refusal to believe in herself is always what holds her back, but she just says, “It just takes practice. You’d figure it out.”

 

They are speaking in this nervous, stilted way; standing at a careful distance, eyes downcast, smiling carefully, as if to show they’re not a threat to each other. Which is of course exactly what they _are_ doing. Yanked back to reality from the brief tranquil respite of the park, they are suddenly unsure of one another. Does someone blame someone else for what happened? Is there anger, bubbling beneath the surface? Is one of them likely to lash out in pain against the other? Where Henry is concerned, both of their feelings were always so raw, and so often in competition. So what happens now when they are both facing this unbearable loss?

 

“Do you want some coffee?” Regina asks just as Emma starts, “I should go-”

 

They stare at each other once more, relief clearly readable on each others’ faces because they cannot stand the idea of being alone, but neither can take the company of those who love them right now.

 

“Coffee would be great.”

 

Emma leans against the counter while Regina boils water. She watches the mayor carefully; sizing things up, trying to assess the situation. Regina is focusing intensely on the mugs she takes from the cupboard, the cream from the refrigerator, grinding the beans to the correct consistency. She could have done all this with a flick of her wrist but she seems to be revelling in the minutiae of every detail of this simple task. It gives her something to do, Emma realizes. Mundane actions, going through the motions; at least she is doing something. At least her mind can be occupied by this one small task.

 

“How are you..?” Emma starts falteringly, and then stops because the question is so stupid she wishes she could cram it back into her mouth.

 

“Much the same as you, I suppose,” Regina replies, wearily.

 

They stand there in silence, listening to the water starting to boil. Regina speaks next.

 

“So you’re avoiding Hook.”

 

“Yeah…” Emma looks down guiltily, examining her boots. “Thanks for the uh, rescue.”

 

“I’m happy not to see the pirate any more frequently than I have to.”

 

“There isn’t much love lost between you two.”

 

“Well he did help torture me almost to death that one time so, no. Not much love there,” Regina replies, an edge of bitterness creeping into her voice, surprised at herself that she even has any emotion left to feel angry at Hook.

 

“He… has a lot to make up for,” Emma responds quietly, reminded once again of how far Hook has to go in his quest for redemption, and wondering if he even cares about that beyond redemption in her eyes.

 

“Well I’m hardly able to cast stones,” Regina says softly, and Emma catches the look of self-reproach in her eyes.

 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Regina. Not any more.” But she knows the words are meaningless; Regina never wanted forgiveness, and she never cared what Emma thought. She want to be good, to be a hero. And the person she strove to be a better person for is gone now.

 

“Well I’m not sure teleportation is the most effective way to deal with the pirate. He is nothing if not persistent,” she hands Emma a mug and moves to sit at the table, the other woman following her.

 

Emma sighs, starting to feel the claustrophobia building again just from talking about Killian. “He wants to help, but there isn’t anything he can do. He wants to understand, but he can’t. He wants to… I don’t know, love me enough that it doesn’t hurt any more. And that’s not gonna work and it’s not what I need and he doesn’t seem to get that.”

 

It’s more than she meant to say, perhaps more than she knew she felt, but knowing she doesn’t have to put on a front for Regina, knowing the other woman’s dislike of the man, seems to be encouraging Emma to vent her frustration. But now a new pain is crossing Regina’s face and Emma stops her train of thought abruptly, realizing that she’s complaining about Killian loving her too much while Regina has just had her heart broken by Robin. Or rather, by Emma through Robin.

 

“Oh god, Regina I’m so sorry…” she’s kicking herself for being so self absorbed. “I’m such an idiot.”

 

“It’s fine,” the other woman replies stiffly, not doing a convincing job at the pretense.

 

“No it’s not,” Emma replies fiercely, having somewhere to channel her emotion now, inward and into self-criticism. “I screwed up. I didn’t think and I just acted and I ruined your relationship.”

 

“He was only available because I had his wife executed,” Regina notes bitterly. “It was pretty screwed up to start with.”

 

Emma gives her a doubtful look like she knows that doesn’t absolve her of anything. And Regina _is_ still angry about it; she’s not that big of a person, she can’t forgive so easily. She was happy and she saw potential for true, lasting happiness in her future and then it was all ripped away. But the reality is that it doesn’t matter. Henry is gone. Robin or no Robin, that isn’t going to change. And that’s the only thing that really means anything. She doesn’t need Emma to feel sorry for her; that’s not what propelled her to whisk them away from that emo pirate; it’s not what made her offer Emma coffee, hoping that she’d stay; it’s not why she’s holding back now instead of lashing out. She needs Emma here. She needs someone who can understand what she’s feeling.

 

“And just so you know,” Regina continues, determined to wipe this look of pity off Emma’s face, “Snow has called me seventeen times in the past two days. I think she’s trying to let me know that the two idiots will always be there to smother me with their love and understanding. So I’m not _completely_ alone.” She gives the other woman a significant look. “I don’t need your guilt, Emma.”

 

Emma’s suddenly both grateful to Snow, for having the presence of mind to think about Regina in all this, and guilty that she’s worked so hard to avoid her parents. And also a little jealous of Regina that she can so easily escape her mother’s ministrations; she doesn’t have to live with those idiots.

 

“I’m a terrible person. I didn’t even tell them where I was going this morning- I just walked out,” she looks guiltily at Regina, hoping for some reassurance. “I know it’s awful to say but I just can’t take the way they’ve been looking at me, like they’re so sorry. They give me these big puppydog eyes because they’re feeling so bad for me, but I don’t need them to feel bad for me, and I don’t need them _reminding_ me how bad I feel. And I know they lost Henry too-” her voice catches as she realizes this is the first time she’s acknowledged what they’re talking about, what they’re doing here. The first time she’s said his name. She meets Regina’s eyes but the pain she sees mirrored there causes her to look away again quickly.

 

“But he wasn’t their son,” Regina finishes, her voice thick and tight.

 

“And they lost a child once, but they found her again. And they have Neal…” Emma falters again, unsure how to explain how her chest gets tight and she can’t breathe at the sight of that little boy, safe with his parents. She never had that with Henry; didn’t get to raise him. She’ll never have anything with Henry again. “I just don’t know how to do this. I never had this before- people who care about me. I feel like everyone’s watching me, walking on eggshells, waiting for me to cry or break something or-”

 

“Run?” Regina finishes.

 

Emma’s cheeks burn hot again because she _had_ considered it; running, getting away, leaving town so she could be by herself with her thoughts and her feelings and not having to grieve in public. And then she feels even more ashamed because no one is more in the public eye than Regina, the evil queen, the mayor. Everyone is looking at both of them.

 

“I would too, if I could,” Regina says quietly. “Where you run away, I try to control everything. And that’s never really turned out well.”

 

And just like that the tension seems to dissipate; there’s no more second guessing, no competition, no wariness. They are mothers who have lost their son. They are experiencing a unique pain that no one else can understand, struggling with the same feelings of guilt and anger and frustration, and it’s such a relief, to know that they not alone. They don’t have to explain anything, don’t have to try and figure out or explain how they are. They are both terrible. Maybe they will never be ok again.

 

Tears well up and spill down Emma’s cheeks. She swipes at them angrily; she didn’t come here to cry. But Regina catches her hands and holds tight, and looking up she realizes she other woman’s face is wet too, but she won’t meet Emma’s gaze. So they just sit there for a minute, gripping each others’ hands, refusing to look at each other, in silent agreement not to acknowledge each other’s tears, struggling to breathe, holding on.

 

Regina abruptly lets go of Emma, standing quickly to clear away the mugs, and to put some distance between herself and the other grieving woman. She can feel the emotion coming off Emma in waves, mingling with her own, and it’s too much; she could drown in it. They have shared many moments like this since they met; emotion much too intense for two people who, until recently, wouldn’t have even called themselves allies, much less friends. And yet they so often found themselves pulled together in mutual understanding. That was Henry’s doing, mostly. And the Charmings. They all had a complicated, interweaving history.

 

Regina turns on the tap and starts scrubbing intently at the mugs, while Emma takes the opportunity of Regina’s turned back to wipe her face. Eventually Regina feels in control of herself enough to speak again.

 

“I _could_ teach you, you know.”

 

It takes Emma a moment to understand what she’s talking about. “To teleport?”

 

“And other things. I know you’ve been practicing, and you’re getting better. But you may not be aware what you’re capable of. I could show you. Help you get stronger. And maybe,” she hesitates, “maybe you could help me get more comfortable with using light magic.”

 

Emma’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “You want me to help you with magic?”

 

“ _Light_ magic,” Regina clarifies, slightly irritably.

 

“Ok,” Emma agrees, not sure why Regina is suddenly so interested in resuming their magic lessons until Regina says,

 

“We’re stronger together.”

 

Suddenly Emma is completely focused. “You think she’s coming back.”

 

“I’m sure of it,” Regina responds with a steely tone, before adding quietly, “I’m counting on it.”

 

Zelena’s cruel smile fills Emma’s mind as she considers the possibility of facing the cause of her misery again, and she finds she is shaking with rage. She’s frightened by how angry she is but she quickly pushes away her concern, needing to know what it is Regina is suggesting.

 

“You’re going to try and kill her?”

 

“I can’t do it alone,” Regina responds, and she’s watching Emma very closely, waiting to see if the other woman’s pain is great enough that she might consider vengeance rather than justice and punishment. And Emma knows exactly what she wants to hear when she finishes, “So, are you with me?”

 

There’s no question. And Emma doesn’t hesitate.

  
“Absolutely.”


	3. Hard Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More raw grief in this one, and some references to past trauma, childhood abuse and non-consensual relationships (specifically Regina's). Nothing too deep, but take care if you're easily triggered.

“Emma Swan do not let that fireball loose inside my house!”

 

The look on Regina’s face and the tone of her voice is enough to warn Emma that she absolutely must get control of the flaming mass sitting in the palm of her hand, if she has any ability to do so. But unfortunately the morning’s first magic lesson is not going exactly according to plan, and she had struggled for hours to even get the thing going in the first place. And now it’s here, all white heat and angry flames, she seems to have no more control over it than when it refused to come into existence at all. In fact the harder she tries to extinguish it, the hotter and bigger and more out of control it seems to get.

 

“Focus, Miss Swan!”

 

“I _am_ focusing,” Emma growls through clenched teeth, sweating as she struggles to restrain the magic surging through her hand.

 

But it’s not working, and she’s not controlling it, and she can feel the thing getting more intense the more worked up and frustrated and anxious she gets, until she looses the fireball in a panic, sending it crashing into Regina’s pristine white sofa and watching in horror as the highly combustible fabric explodes into flame.

 

Regina moves swiftly to extinguish the fire, and it fizzles instantly into a puff of smoke with barely a flick of her wrist. It’s too late for the chaise longue, which is now a blackened mess. Emma eyes it sheepishly, bracing for Regina’s verbal dressing down. But when she dares to look up, Regina is quiet, eyeing her curiously.

 

“What?” Emma asks warily.

 

The crinkle in Regina’s forehead deepens as she continues to stare at Emma, musing.

 

“What??” Emma demands impatiently.

 

She’s not in the mood to play guessing games or to cajole Regina into divulging information. The morning has been exhausting and disheartening; she seems to be worse than ever at using magic, all her former natural ability nowhere to be found. And her cellphone has been vibrating with increasing frequency as more time passes as she still hasn’t returned home. She can just see Mary Margaret fretting on the end of the line, and she’s not ready to go home yet, but the magic lesson is wearing on her, and she knows Regina’s patience is growing thin. This was a useful distraction at first, from the funeral, from what life will be like now without Henry around, but now the emotion of the morning is catching up to them.

 

Emma abruptly decides they’ve had enough for the day. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m tired, and I’m hungry, and I think we’ve both had enough teaching for today. So I’m going home and you just call me when you’re ready to share your insights.”

 

She’s grabbing her jacket and turning towards the door when Regina’s voice stops her.

 

“How long have you been using dark magic?”

 

Emma stops in her tracks, spinning to face the other woman, wide-eyed. Surely she’s joking? But the look on Regina’s face is deadly serious.

 

“You didn’t know that’s what you were doing?”

 

“No…” Emma falters. “How can I be using dark magic? I’ve never used dark magic, I don’t know how! And my heart isn’t black… I don’t think?”

 

“What is it you feel when you’re using magic? What were you feeling just now?”

 

“I don’t know; frustration, irritation, exhaustion mostly. But I always felt that way when I was trying to use magic before- this is nothing new.”

 

Regina shakes her head impatiently. “No, I don’t mean, how do you feel about the task itself. I mean what’s going on inside you?”

 

Emma tries to understand what Regina’s asking for, but all she feels right now is lost and frustrated. She thinks back to when she’s successfully used magic in the past, trying to remember her state of mind, why it had finally worked.

 

“Well… when you took me to that bridge and made it collapse, I was pretty terrified. And when we were in Neverland, I used magic once when we were being attacked by Pan’s Shadow, and when we moved the moon- I was pretty scared both those times.”

 

That doesn’t seem to satisfy Regina either. “These are surface emotions, Emma. When you use magic, you’re drawing on something inside of yourself. Where does that strength come from?”

 

“I don’t know, Regina!” she explodes. “Why does it even matter what kind of magic we’re using? Why can’t we just use both our dark magic against Zelena? She can’t take both of us!”

 

“Because Zelena can only be beaten with light magic, you know that,” Regina replies with supernatural patience. “Besides which, you’re clearly terrible at dark magic.”

 

“Well _you’re_ supposed to be the expert in all this magic stuff. What do _you_ think is going on?” Emma responds, trying to to sound too sullen.

 

Regina sits down on the sofa that escaped Emma’s little burst of pyromania. She’s staring into the middle distance, brow still furrowed as she thinks through her own journey with magic. Finally she speaks.

 

“When you first learned to use magic, you were trying to protect the people you love. Trying to save Henry, to save Storybrooke. That’s not what you’re doing now.” She watches Emma as she speaks, seeing slowly dawning recognition. She looks away as she continues, unable to face the other woman directly while reliving these memories. “When _I_ started using magic, my heart wasn’t black yet. I hadn’t committed any evil acts. But I was hurt, I was in pain. Daniel had just died; my mother had murdered him. I was mother to the girl who had betrayed me, and I was barely more than I child myself. I was married to a man twice my age, who cared nothing for me but still expected me to-” she falters, unable to keep going with this memory. Some days she can talk about it with open defiance, knowing that she survived, that she could not be broken in the end. But not today; she is exhausted from her morning with Emma, and with the effort of holding herself together, keeping herself present, so she doesn’t just fracture and drift apart. And she is so, so very tired.

 

She feels Emma sit down beside her, no longer looking like she’s about to jump out of her skin, listening to Regina with rapt attention, waiting for her to go on.

 

“That’s where my magic came from; a place of pain and trauma. That’s what Rumpelstiltskin taught me to draw on: my anger. My fury at what had been done to me; my fear of anything like that ever happening again. My need to control so that I could keep myself safe.”

 

They sit in silence for a moment, Regina fighting not to be swallowed up in her past pain, Emma trying to sort through her present. Regina has never spoken to her so honestly about her past, about how she became the evil queen. Not the facts, but what she felt, what it did to her. And suddenly things click into place.

 

“Rage.”

 

Regina looks up to see Emma staring intently at the floor, completely sure of herself as she continues, “I feel rage when I use magic now. And fear, and helplessness, and even more rage that I’m so useless, that I couldn’t protect Henry. I hate Zelena for making me realize I’m not enough. I want her to pay. I want her dead.”

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok?” Emma looks incredulous. “How is that ok?”

 

“Well it gives us a place to start.”

 

Emma just stares, amazed at the strength of this woman. If anyone had told her that the worst possible thing would happen one day, she thought she would be the one holding it together, fighting to avenge Henry. She never would have guessed that Regina would be such a rock.

 

“How are you holding it together like this?”

 

“You mean, why aren’t _I_ the one using dark magic?” Regina translates Emma’s meaning.

 

“No, that’s not what I…” But Emma’s shamefaced expression reveals that yes, that is exactly what she meant. “I just mean, I know you’ve experienced terrible things, and I know how you responded to that in the past. And now our son is gone and I just don’t understand how you’re not throwing purple thunderbolts. If it was so easy for me to start using dark magic…”

 

“You think it’s easy for me _not_ to?” Regina snarls, immediately on her feet, seething with anger. Emma has said some oblivious, insensitive shit in her time but she’s really outdoing herself today. “Dark magic is all I’ve known! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to let go of that? To figure out how to use light magic? I had to fight for it! And I’m still fighting for it now. It would be so easy to just use dark magic- to act on everything I’m feeling. I would _raze_ this town to the ground.”

 

Her voice is hard and loud and more like the evil queen than Emma has heard it in a long time. Regina seems to catch herself, take a breath, will herself to be calm.

 

“But I can’t,” she says finally, quietly. “Because Henry believed in me. And I won’t dishonour his memory. I have to be better than that.”

 

She turns away from Emma and walks to the window, keeping her back to the other woman so she can’t see the tears that slide down Regina’s cheeks, but Emma notes the way her shoulders shake and looks away, wanting to respect Regina’s space.

 

“I’m sorry, Regina,” she whispers after a long minute.

 

It has been a long, long day. She’s amazed they’ve even made it this far. Their son was only laid to rest this morning, and somehow they’ve managed to work together in spite of the rawness of their grief. They’ve managed to cooperate and not tear each other apart. But all of their efforts to hold themselves together have worn them through, and they are exhausted, and sad, and bereft.

 

“How do I get my light magic back?” Emma asks finally, tiredly. “How do I do what you’re doing?”

 

“You have to fight for it.”

 

Emma’s voice is so small that Regina almost misses what she says next. “What if I can’t? What if I’m not as strong as you are?”

 

“Then she wins.”

 

 


	4. Good Memories

Emma wakes early. She had gone to bed as soon as she’d got home the day before, even though it was only afternoon. She was exhausted from the exertion of magic; the intensity of feeling from spending time with Regina which was both welcome and hard to take; the ache of the absence that wouldn’t go away.

 

Mary Margaret had shot a worried look at David when she arrived back at the apartment, and he had sent a warning, steadying look in response that said, _remember what we talked about?_ Emma had pretended not to notice their non-verbal exchange, or the odd high pitch in Mary Margaret’s voice as she struggled to ask casually, “Where did you get to today?”

 

“I was with Regina,” Emma had replied honestly, pulling a stool up to the kitchen counter and sitting down, resolved to answer all her parents’ questions. She had taken liberties by just disappearing; pushed them further than she should have. She could give them this.

 

“Regina?” Mary Margaret’s voice had reached an even higher octave but she valiantly struggled to keep her face neutral.

 

“I just couldn’t face the funeral. I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t exactly cool of me to ditch it- I know people expected me to be there. I just... wasn’t ready to see him like that.” She lay her head on top of her folded arms on the counter, exhaustion written all over her face.

 

“It doesn’t matter what people expect. There’s no right or wrong way for you to feel or behave,” David lay an affectionate hand on her shoulder, his voice full of reassurance.

 

“We just want you to know,” Mary Margaret had continued, hurrying over to join them, “that you can talk to us about anything- whatever you’re feeling. Or not!” she added, a note of desperation creeping into her voice, anxious not to be too prescriptive. “You don’t have to tell us anything at all, that’s fine too! We love you Emma and we’re here for you, whatever you need.”

 

Emma cringed a little at her parents’ overly-enthusiastic support, but she was grateful for it to. “I know. Thanks.”

 

“How’s Regina?” her mother asked hesitantly.

 

“She’s ok,” Emma sighed.

 

“Really?” Even David sounded a little incredulous.

 

“Well, no. She’s awful, but she’s dealing. She’s doing ok. She’s not ‘gone dark’ or anything.”

 

Her parents rushed to clarify. “No, of course not!” “No no, we weren’t saying-” “We didn’t think that…”

 

Emma had given them a knowing look, but she knew they meant well. They were just worried. “She’s holding it together. She won’t slip back into old habits- she wouldn’t want to feel like she was disappointing Henry.”

 

They were all quiet for a moment at the invocation of Henry’s name before Mary Margaret nodded. “No, of course she wouldn’t.”

 

“So you were just… talking?” David asked, and she could see the hopeful looks exchanged between her parents, that she was talking to _someone_ , even if it wasn’t them.

 

“Actually we were practicing magic,” Emma explained, steeling herself for the inevitable reaction.

 

“Magic?” there was confusion written all over Mary Margaret’s face. “What for?”

 

“Regina thinks Zelena will be back. And I think she’s right- she’s not gonna be satisfied with thirty seconds to revel in her victory. She’s gonna want to come back to gloat properly; to  make sure we are all really suffering. That Regina is suffering. And she may decide that even that’s not enough- that she wants to hurt us more. Maybe you’ll be next, or David, or Neal, or me. We can’t risk it. We’ve gotta be ready for her.”

 

She had been aware of how strangely dispassionate her voice sounded as she laid things out for her parents, like she was talking about someone else, and the worried looks were going back and forth again. Maybe she was being a bit too objective, but that was the only way they were going to be able to do this. The morning’s frustrations had proved that: her feelings were a hindrance. Not only that, a danger (she had decided to leave out the part about her using dark magic, deciding that would cause her parents unnecessary distress). She had to put her pain aside if she was going to be of any use. And it felt good to have a task, to have something to focus on, to have a response to these awful feelings. She couldn’t bring Henry back, but maybe she could redeem herself after failing him. Maybe she could still be the saviour.

 

She had left her parents soon after their conversation about Zelena, heading up to bed.

 

“Have you eaten?” Snow called after her, the anxiety creeping into her voice again.

 

Emma waved her off. “No, but I’m not hungry, I just really wanna go to bed. I’ll eat something tomorrow, promise.”

 

As she turned to continue dragging her tired limbs up to her room, David had called after her, “Hook’s been looking for you.”

 

She cringed. “Right, I’ll uh- I’ll call him tomorrow.”

 

\---

 

The next morning she is ravenous. She slept in fits and starts, dreams pulling together old and new hurts and fears into one seemingly neverending nightmare. So when she wakes up the last time and sees the sun just starting to rise, she gets dressed, thankful not to have to try and sleep any more.

 

She thinks about making breakfast downstairs but she doesn’t want to wake Mary Margaret and David, who she knows are getting precious little sleep themselves these days with Neal being so young. So she pulls on her leather jacket and a scarf and hat because it’s too early for the sun to have warmed the streets much, and she heads out to Granny’s. There’s no one else up this early, and no one at the diner, though Granny has been working since the crack of dawn, baking the day’s supplies. She gives Emma a sympathetic look, and Emma grimaces back awkwardly, glad that Granny is the only person she has to face this morning. She eats a plate of eggs and bacon, and then picks up extra coffee and pastries to take to Regina’s; a peace offering, she hopes, after her insensitive comments the day before. Granny has some fresh-baked apple tarts, and Emma knows how Regina feels about apples.

 

But when she arrives at the mayor’s house, she falters, realizing how early it still is. Maybe Regina isn’t up yet? She probably needed to sleep after yesterday’s exertions, and Emma doesn’t want to rouse her from much-needed respite. But as she dithers outside, coffees balanced on top of a pastry box, the front door opens as if Regina has been waiting for her.

 

“Hi-” Emma starts in surprise. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be up.”

 

“I barely slept,” comes Regina’s terse reply.

 

“Me either.”

 

“Well hurry up and come inside- you’re letting all the heat out of the house.”

 

Emma obediently slips past her and heads towards the kitchen, setting her offerings on the table. “I thought you might be hungry.”

 

Regina takes the coffee but eyes the box dubiously. “What’s that?”

 

“Apple tart,” Emma replies, watching the other woman for signs of approval.

 

“Poisoned?” she raises an eyebrow at Emma, who rolls her eyes in return.

 

“Not unless Granny’s been adding a secret ingredient.”

 

Regina flips the box open to find a large sticky donut inside.

 

“Mmm diabetes in a desert.”

 

“The donut’s mine,” Emma fishes it out quickly.

 

Regina examines her pastry. “Granny does make quite a good apple tart. Not as good as mine, but it’s not bad.”

 

Emma smiles nervously, taking Regina’s somewhat positive assessment of her offering as a good sign. They sit sipping their coffee quietly while Emma tucks into her donut, still unable to sate her hunger, and getting frosting everywhere in the process. Regina gets a plate for her pastry and picks at it carefully with a fork, giving the other woman a disapproving look as she observes the mess unfolding in front of her. Emma licks her fingers clean, embarrassed, but there’s a wistful smile playing on Regina’s lips.

 

“You’re worse than Henry,” she says finally, handing Emma a napkin.

 

It’s the first time either of them has said his name without it eliciting a stab of pain, and Emma smiles, not minding the comparison, or the infantilization. Henry was a demon when it came to donuts.

 

“He got his sweet tooth from you, I’m sure,” Regina continues.

 

“Henry would have remembered to bring his own napkins to clean up after himself,” Emma responds. “His mom raised him right.”

 

They eat in companionable silence for a while, the sun shining more brightly through the windows as the morning begins properly, the scent of fresh coffee filling the room, the taste of sugar on their lips, an easiness in each others’ company that has only been fleeting in the past, but seems to come more naturally now.

 

“So I was thinking about those fireballs,” Emma begins cautiously, not wanting to shatter the calm by bringing up the previous day’s destruction.

 

“Yes I think it’s best if we leave the fire for now,” Regina interrupts her. Emma starts to object, to argue that today she’ll do better, she’s sure of it, but something about the expression on the other woman’s face causes her to stop and listen. “I think we need to start with the basics. I don’t think you should try to use any magic at all until you’re sure where it’s coming from. Until you can tell the difference between light and dark magic, and choose which one to use.”

 

“Ok…” Emma responds slowly. “So how do I do that?”

 

“I have an idea,” Regina is watching Emma carefully. “You’re not going to like it. But I think it’s important.”

 

“Ok…” Emma says again, resolving to give Regina the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’s the expert. But there’s something very unsettling about the look that’s crossing Regina’s face.

 

“When I’ve been able to use light magic,” she starts slowly, hands fiddling with the rim of her disposable coffee cup, “it was Henry who helped me to know how. I acted out of love, to protect him. I was trying to be the person he made me believe I could be.”

 

Emma nods, staring at the coffee cup that Regina is nervously dismantling.

 

“So I think what we need to do for you, is to get your focus back on being your best self. And on the people you want to be that person for. I think that since Henry-” her voice catches and she takes a steadying breath, starts again. “Since Henry died, you’ve been focused on the fact that he’s gone. You need to remember who he was when he was alive. His spirit. All the happy memories. All the reasons you decided to stay in Storybrooke in the first place.”

 

“And how do I do that?” Emma asks, not sure she wants to hear the answer.

 

“Come with me,” is all Regina responds, rising and heading out towards the stairs, Emma trailing behind her.

 

She knows Emma is not going to want to do this. She doesn’t want to do this either; her heart swells and contracts at the thought of it; of immersing herself in memories of Henry. She knows how much more it will hurt after, when she has to face the fact that those memories are all she has left now. But she has to face that fact sometime, and she won’t lock her little boy away in her mind so she doesn’t have to feel the pain of his loss. She doesn’t want to be afraid to think of him. She wants to be able to celebrate him, to be proud of him. She wants to pull those memories out every day remember what a wonderful, brave, loving boy her son was.

 

Emma stops dead at the top of the stairs, realizing where they are going. Regina pauses at the door to Henry’s room, steeling herself. “I haven’t been in here since- since before…”

 

“Regina, I can’t-”

 

“Yes you can,” replies Regina softly.

 

“There must be another way.”

 

“Are you going to hide from him for the rest of your life?”

 

That hits a nerve, and Emma is fuming. “That’s not what I’m doing!”

 

“Right now all you can think about is what he’s not: not here, not alive, not going to grow up, not going to be part of your life any more. And you’re blaming yourself for that.” Emma looks away, cheeks burning. Regina’s voice softens again. “I know because I am too. But that’s not how I want to remember Henry. And it’s not going to help us avenge him, or protect everyone else.”

 

Emma’s anger has dissipated at Regina’s words, and the woman is emboldened to go on, to admit weaknesses to Emma she never would have before this, before they were tied together in grief.

 

“I’m scared too. I can’t do this without you, Emma.”

 

Emma closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to fail Henry again. She does want good memories. She wants to do right by him, even in death. She crosses the hall to stand by his other mother, squaring her shoulders, readying herself, and then on impulse, slips her hand into Regina’s. She’s not usually one for physical displays of emotion- apart from the aggressive- but the last few days are presenting her with trials she’s never thought of facing before, and it’s all she can do to grab on to the woman with whom her experiences are twinned, and hold tight.

 

Regina pushes the door open.

 

Henry’s room is exactly as they remember it. Bed neatly made (Regina’s training), stack of comics and candy wrappers stuffed away under the bed (Emma’s influence), overflowing bookshelf with the fairytale book in pride of place.

 

They both catch their breath at the same time, taking it all in. Henry’s presence is almost a physical thing; they can almost feel him tearing around in here, or sitting at his desk studying diligently, or rolling on the floor having a temper tantrum. So many years of Henry.

 

Regina moves to sit on the bed, and is immediately bowled over again because the scent of Henry rises from the sheets and wraps around her. She runs her hand over his pillow, a few strands of brown hair still caught there. Emma is still standing in the middle of the room, looking lost. She has memories of Henry’s childhood, from before she actually met him; Regina had made sure of that. But none of them are from _here_ \- they are all tied to a fictional life, and she struggles to reconcile the memories that are not hers with this place that she could not have experienced them in, even as they feel so real to her.

 

Regina senses her discomfort and decides to take the lead.

 

“Do you remember when Snow gave him that?” she’s pointing at a hand-crafted star that’s sitting atop his bookcase.

 

“Yes.” Emma’s concern dissolves into warmth as she beams at the now-worn-looking object. “He carried it with him everywhere for weeks, even after it started to fall apart.”

 

It is one of Regina’s shared memories, not her own. Henry had been nine years old, and he had found an injured bluebird on the way to school. He’d brought it to Mary Margaret, hoping she could nurse it back to health, which of course she tried to. It was touch and go for a while, and Henry had stayed late after school every day, watching over the parakeet cage that had been appropriated as a recovery room. Finally the bird had recovered enough to survive on its own, and Mary Margaret and Henry had released it in the school yard, watching it fly away.

 

Henry had been glad of its recovery, but disappointed it was gone; Regina thinks he’d rather hoped to keep it as a pet. So Snow had crafted an award for heroism and animal protection by weaving together twigs and flowers and grass into a star-shaped garland, because of course she did. And she had presented it to Henry as a prize for being the star that he was. Regina remembers how Henry had run all the way home to show her; how proud he had been. At the time, she had felt jealous that Snow White could inspire such joy in her son. But looking back now, all she can remember is feeling pride herself, and gratitude towards her former step-daughter for making her son feel so special. Perhaps it’s a side-effect of giving Emma happy memories- she’s gained a new perspective on her past experiences, one informed by her present relationships instead of being coloured by past hurt.

 

Emma runs her fingers along the bookshelf, touching the completed rubix cube that he had solved at ten and never touched again, wanting to preserve the evidence of his success. She can remember how his face lit up with pride as he showed her-- or showed Regina, rather. Another shared memory, not her own.

 

“I never noticed how many clocks he had,” Emma says as she looks around the room, counting at least twelve. Digital clocks, analogue, wooden, plastic, metal, some more intricate than others- even a cuckoo clock.

 

“Yes, he developed a bit of an obsession with time,” Regina replies, not sure exactly when their son had become aware that time didn’t work the same way in Storybrooke as it did everywhere else. “I don’t know where he got half of these; they just seemed to accumulate.”

 

“I think this one’s from Gold’s shop,” Emma points at the cuckoo clock.

 

Regina nods in agreement. “That one’s mine,” she points at the digital alarm clock by his bed.

 

Emma laughs, “You overslept and were late for a council meeting after he pinched it.”

 

The other woman smiles at the memory, though she had been thoroughly unimpressed at the time. “Oh I was mad. Without magic it takes a hell of a lot longer to get ready in the mornings. A hairdryer is nowhere near as effective as a glamour spell, especially not when you only have five minutes.”

 

“So _that’s_ how you always look so perfect,” Emma teases, and feels gratified when Regina blushes.

 

She gets onto her knees to examine the situation under the bed. “Hey it’s a treasure trove under here!”

 

Joining her, Regina peers into the darkness, where a box stuffed with toys sits amidst candy wrappers, comics, misplaced homework and long-forgotten CDs. Emma grabs the closest one.

 

“Eminem?” she scowls at it.

 

“It  was just a phase,” Regina assures her. “Help me with this?”

 

Together they heave the box out and stare at its contents; a cornucopia of accumulated childhood fads. The walkie talkies they had used in so many of their ‘missions’; more clocks- now out of batteries or in need of a wind-up; old VHS tapes of _Snow White, Robin Hood, Beauty and the Beast_ (all of which Regina wrinkles her nose at disparagingly, such biased perspectives); the video game Regina had tried to bribe Henry with when she’d bulldozed the playground and he’d lost his storybook; sketches and operation plans and detailed notes and observations on all the residents of the town and their respective fairytale identities.

 

They look at each object in turn, and it takes hours but they don’t want to miss anything; remembering the good and the bad together, until they are spent from the bitter-sweetness.

 

As tears slide down Emma’s cheeks, she’s filled again with gratitude that Regina gifted these memories to her. That even though she didn’t get to watch Henry grow up, she has a visceral sense of being part of his life. And now, with him gone, that gift is even more precious; she had only a few years of memories made with Henry by herself. Regina has given her their son’s whole life to remember him by.

 

Abruptly she wishes she could return the favour. There’s a year of Henry’s life missing for Regina- the last year. And as a preteen he had changed so much, grown up at an astounding rate. That was something Regina hadn’t got to see, and Emma suddenly desperately wants to share it with her.

 

“You know, I have a bunch of Henry’s stuff at my place. Well, Mary Margaret and David’s place. More recent stuff- from the past year. If you want, we can go over there and I can show you?” she asks tentatively.

 

Regina’s eyes are wet but she smiles broadly. “I’d like that.”

 

“You might have to deal with the Charmings’ uh- supportiveness, for a little while.”

  
“I’m sure I can handle it.”


	5. The Lost Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less grief and more fluffiness in this chapter. Thanks for the positive responses! :)

Snow looks up in surprise when Emma and Regina arrive at the apartment around lunchtime, but she quickly works to mask it and to approach Regina carefully; not being pushy, not nosing into their business. Regina eyes her warily as Emma hovers nervously, hoping her mother doesn’t ask if the other woman has been checking her voicemail.

 

Instead Snow reaches out tentatively, and is gratified when her former stepmother steps into her embrace. And suddenly David is at their side, squeezing Regina’s arm affectionately. None of them say anything; what could they say? They try to communicate silently everything that they feel, and watching them Emma remembers once again the long complicated history between Regina and her parents; that Snow has known Regina since she was a child; that she had once loved Regina like a mother or a sister. In the past, these sudden remembrances made Emma feel awkward and left out, reminding her what she missed out on, that she doesn’t belong. But today she is grateful for that shared history; that Regina is as much a part of their family as she is. And perhaps Regina might not even mind this fact; might be grateful as well.

 

“So, what are you two doing here,” Mary Margaret asks when they finally break awkwardly apart.

 

“I was just going to show Regina some of Henry’s stuff- you know, from New York,” Emma explained.

 

“Oh, what a lovely idea,” her mother replies, eyes growing instantly moist at the thought. Her hormones are partly to blame; Neal is only a couple of weeks old, and since he was born she burst into tears at the slightest provocation. And now with the loss of her grandson, it doesn’t take much to push her over the edge. This sweet gesture of Emma’s makes her heart swell, and she almost moves to hug Regina again before catching herself; two hugs in as many minutes might be pushing it.

 

They stand awkwardly around in the living room, Emma wondering if they should just head up to her room, and feeling like a teenager who had just brought her friend over after school and is forced to go through the obligatory parental meet and greet. Finally Mary Margaret offers them an out.

 

“Do you want some food? I was just finishing some soup.”

 

Emma looks over at Regina, checking in. The other woman, subdued and pliant, just shrugs and follows Mary Margaret towards the breakfast bar.

 

“Sure that sounds great,” Emma replies decisively, following Regina’s lead. The soup smells homey and comforting, and it’s nice not to have to worry about things like feeding themselves. The are worn and raw; it’s so easy to let Mary Margaret perform the mothering role she seems eager to fulfil.

 

They settle at the counter, watching her adding the final ingredients, when David’s cell phone rings. He answers, seeing the number for the sheriff's station where he is supposed to be supervising the cleanup from Zelena’s final attack. He left Robin in charge to come home and check on Mary Margaret and Neal, and he steps away from Regina to answer, not wanting to expose her to any unnecessary emotional strain. But it’s another voice voice that comes through the line.

 

“Hook?”

 

Emma’s eyes dart over and meet David’s as he listens on the phone. “Is Emma here?” She shakes her head emphatically, looking panicked.

 

“She- uh- she left pretty early this morning, before we were up,” he dodges, not lying outright but avoiding the truth. Regina rolls her eyes; typical Charming. “I’m… not sure what time she was... planning on coming back.” He moves off to the other room to continue the conversation.

 

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him to take a hike,” Regina tells her.

 

“I don’t wanna be an asshole or come off as… ungrateful. He followed me through a portal into the past to help me, and he traded his ship for me.”

 

“You can’t buy someone’s affection,” Regina replies coldly, before adding quietly, “I should know.”

 

Emma reaches out unthinking and rests a hand on Regina’s arm, knowing the other woman is remembering all the toys and gifts she gave to Henry over the years, trying to ensure his love. All she needed in the end was to be herself.

 

“Regina’s right,” Mary Margaret tells her daughter, stirring the soup and pretending not to notice Emma’s unconscious display of affection. “You don’t owe him anything. Just because he was nice to you doesn’t mean you’re under any obligation to give him anything in return. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. If he cares for you as much as he says he does, he’ll understand and give you space.”

 

“And if he doesn’t?”

 

“Then maybe he’s not the man he claims to be,” Snow squeezes Emma’s hand comfortingly, before turning to Regina and asking carefully, “Have you heard from Robin at all?”

 

Regina shakes her head and looks away. “I’m sure he’s making up for lost time with his wife.”

 

Emma flinches guiltily and removes her hand from Regina’s arm. There’s no recrimination in the other woman’s voice, but Emma feels the burden of her words all the same.

 

“He sent flowers- for Henry,” Regina adds. “That was nice of him; it’s more than he needed to do. After all, I was the person responsible for his own son growing up without a mother.”

 

Snow opens her mouth to object and say something comforting, but just then Neal wakes and starts howling, and she’s got a chopping board of vegetables balanced over the soup and Charming’s in the other room talking to Hook. So she turns to her daughter.

 

“Emma, would you mind seeing to him?”

 

Mary Margaret’s focusing on the soup so she doesn’t see the stricken look that crosses her daughter’s face, but Regina does, and she’s quickly getting to her feet and moving towards the child, saying, “It’s alright, I’ll get him,” and relieving Emma of her obligation.

 

Emma breathes a sigh of relief, feeling ashamed of her ambivalence towards her brother. She watches Regina bend over the bassinet and lift the cranky infant, hushing and cooing to him in a way that is so eerily familiar, like she’s seen this before. And she realizes she has: informed by Regina’s memories of Henry, the scene transforms into a confusing blend of past and present, or her own experience and Regina’s. Neal quiets quickly as Regina rocks him, a look of calm settling over her as she does so.

 

“You’re so good with him, Regina,” Snow notes approvingly.

 

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she responds, looking fondly at Neal. “Henry was awful at this age, do you remember?”

 

Emma does remember; even happy memories need to be believable, and Regina had made sure she got the full experience of being a new single mother when she gave Emma her own history with their son. She remembers not sleeping more than three hours at a time for six  months after Henry was born, Regina’s experience blending seamlessly with her own memories of sleepless nights during the last few months of her pregnancy when no position was comfortable, especially on a prison bed.

 

“What was the song you always used to sing to him, to get him to sleep?” she asks suddenly. Regina cringes in embarrassment, avoiding Emma’s eyes. “No, come on!” she cajoles. “How does it go? _Now I've had the time of my life, no I neeeever felt like this before, yes I swear it's the truuuuuth, and I owe it all to you_ ,” she croons.

 

“Emma, stop!”

 

They don’t notice Mary Margaret looking at them strangely, realization slowly dawning, until she says, “You still have Regina’s memories.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma confirms, suddenly self-conscious, like a secret intimacy has just been exposed.

 

“All of them?”

 

“Well, all of them from Henry’s childhood, just altered a bit.”

 

Mary Margaret still seems to be struggling to comprehend. “But how does that work when you remember your real life now?”

 

That stings a bit, the assertion that her life with Henry, everything she remembers from his childhood, isn’t real, is a lie. “It’s… complicated,” she concedes. “It can get a bit confusing.”

 

Regina is watching them quietly, rocking the baby back and forth, and Mary Margaret drops it, sensing her daughter’s prickly reception.

 

“Well, this is ready,” she says brightly, ladling soup into bowls.

 

Charming reappears at the sound of food being dished out.

 

“How’s Hook?” Emma asks guiltily.

 

“Worried about you,” David answers honestly. “But he’s not gonna show up here. I covered for you.”

 

Regina snorts derisively at David’s idea of ‘covering’.

 

They eat their soup hungrily; Snow has added extra chili peppers at Regina’s request, and it’s rich and warm and comforting. They sit at the table long after they are done; the afternoon moving on slowly, Snow settling Neal for a nap while Emma and Regina enjoy a bit of respite. Eventually they excuse themselves, slipping up to Emma’s room while Snow watches them curiously.

 

There’s not much stuff there; Emma and Henry had left New York quickly, only packing a suitcase each, and only expecting to stay a week or two. Henry mostly brought clothes, and a few other important items he thought he’d need or didn’t want to be without.

 

“Most of his stuff’s at our place in New York,” Emma says apologetically as Regina surveys the minimal belongings, currently strewn about the room. She’s feeling silly now for  suggesting this- there’s so little she can actually offer Regina.

 

But Regina doesn’t seem to mind. She picks up a handheld console; it’s much newer than the one she’d given Henry, which now languishes in the box under his bed.

 

“He just brought that to tide him over while we were staying here. He was right in the middle of Mass Effect 3 when we left- he said he wanted to keep is reflexes sharp.” Regina stares blankly at her. “It’s a video game about… space… wars…” she finishes weakly.

 

“Oh.” Regina picks up a sweater with ‘Camp 2013’ printed on it.

 

“That was from this camp he went to last year in the Adirondacks. It was supposed to be this retreat thing for overachievers- all the math geeks and the spelling bee champs and debate club kids. I think he mostly went because this girl Adeline was going.”

 

“He likes girls now?” Regina stares at her.

 

“Well, just this one girl,” Emma clarified. “He’d never mentioned a girl before, but I guess he is- was- thirteen, so...”

 

“Yes,” Regina says sadly, folding the sweater carefully and setting it back down on the bed.

 

This isn’t going as Emma had hoped. She is just reminding Regina of everything she’s missed. Suddenly she remembers Henry’s scrapbook, and digs through the mostly-empty suitcase to find it abandoned at the bottom. About a year before- at right around the time their new lives in New York had begun- Henry started obsessively documenting everything; as if he was trying to write his own life-story, or to make sense of it. Like the fairytale book- trying to get a sense of his history. Maybe he always knew his life in New York was wrong, that there was somewhere else he was supposed to be.

 

She hands the book to his other mother, who sits with it on the bed, going through it eagerly, soaking it all in. Henry put everything in there; movie ticket stubs, photos, train tickets, all with brief descriptors and annotations. He added drawings of different places and people (Adeline featured prominently towards the end), short diary-style entries, notes about things he’d seen or wanted to remember. The last few pages are from their first days in Storybrook; the last page is a sketch he’d drawn of a boy and a dark-haired woman eating ice cream. Regina starts as a splash of water hits the page, then realizes that it’s only her tears, and wipes them away quickly. Emma is sitting next to her, Regina’s weight resting slightly against her.

 

“Thank you for this,” she manages finally.

 

“I wish I could give you more,” Emma replies, feeling painfully inadequate.

 

But Regina, smiling widely, replies, “This is more than I hoped for.”

 

\---

 

It’s late afternoon when Emma decides she feels confident enough, grounded enough, to try using her magic again.

 

“Alright,” Regina says uncertainly. “Let’s try something simple first, like moving this cup.” She motions towards the glass of water on the nightstand.

 

But Emma’s already holding her arm outstretched, hand clasped in a fist. She opens it with a flourish, and a fireball appears, much to Regina’s alarm.

 

“Emma-” she warns, thinking of the Charmings downstairs with their infant son. “Let’s not start a housefire or I’m going to end up putting up the lot of you at my house.”

 

Emma smirks at her, but she’s not worried. It feels different this time, because she feels different, and when she closes her palm, the fire simply extinguishes. Regina smiles approval.

 

“Well done, Miss Swan.”

 

She swells with pride, finally feeling like she’s done something right, maybe for the first time since she gave Hook the ‘kiss of life’ and lost her magic. She flicks her wrist and the glass of water comes flying off the nightstand, hurtling towards Regina only to stop dead in front of the other woman. The water splashes over the edge of the glass at the sudden change in momentum and gets all over Regina’s dress. She gives Emma an unimpressed look, and  Emma cringes, but she can see Regina is struggling to hide a smile. This is working. She has control of her magic. They are going to be able to do this; to avenge Henry.

 

They continue practicing simple spells well into the evening; Emma wanting to get more adventurous and Regina trying to persuade her to hone her ability to control before moving on to anything bigger. When they finally come downstairs, David and Mary Margaret are asleep on the couch. Emma slips a blanket over them as Regina puts on her coat.

 

“Wait,” she whispers to Regina as the other woman turns to leave. “I’ll walk you home.”

 

It gets dark early these days, and there’s a definite chill in the air. They walk in companionable silence, Emma digging her hands into her pockets, partly for warmth and  partly out of nervousness, as she tries to figure out how to put her newest idea to Regina.

 

At the door to the mayor’s house, Regina turns to say goodnight, but Emma stops her.

 

“Regina, I’ve been thinking,” she starts.

 

“Careful, Miss Swan,” Regina quirks an eyebrow teasingly and Emma pulls a face in response.

 

“What if we tried casting that spell again, the one that gave me all your memories of Henry, so that you could have mine from the last year?”

 

Regina stares in disbelief. “You would do that for me?”

 

Emma smiles at her. “Of course.”

 

But Regina is shaking her head. “It’s difficult magic; I had to work for a long time to be able to cast spells like that. It’s dangerous; we’re talking about interfering with your memories, and with my mind. It requires a bit more finesse than making a fireball.”

 

“Maybe I couldn’t do it by myself, but together we could? You’d be doing most of the work, I’d  just be using my magic to help, and giving you access to my memories.”

 

Regina looks doubtful, but the idea of another year of Henry is a strong draw. And Emma’s right, it’s a spell she can do fairly easily, Emma will just need some direction.

 

Sitting at her dining table inside, she and Emma take each others’ hands. Emma listens carefully to Regina’s instructions and tries to clear her mind, to focus on Henry and their time  in New York, pinpoint what exactly was happening one year ago when she and Henry had returned from their roadtrip to a little town somewhere in Maine. She sees her apartment; the two bedroom she lived in with their son. She sees him sitting on the couch playing video games, drinking hot chocolate, or head bowed over homework. She remembers what it was like when she thought that it was just the two of them; when she didn’t have any other family; when she never knew her mother and father; when the foster system was all she’d known, until she created a new family with Henry.

 

The power running between their hands is electric; it’s more force than Emma’s felt since she last tried to do magic with Regina, moving the moon. Their combined power is astounding; beyond what she was anticipating, and she finds herself quickly getting drawn in too far, getting lost in the emotion of her memories.

 

The lost year hits Regina like a wall; a flood of new experiences and thoughts and feelings so bright and vivid that it’s like she’s there in New York, and Henry is with her, alive and vital and smiling. She makes him breakfast while he waters the plants in their apartment, the bright morning light streaming through the windows. Music plays on the radio as she sets some maple syrup on the table, and  passes him a hot chocolate, pausing to sprinkle cinnamon on  top. They clink their mugs together and cheers the morning.

 

Regina snaps back to the present gasping for breath, the strength of the spell seeming to have taken a physical toll as much as a mental one. Emma is gasping too opposite her, shaking from the force of the energy that had been surging through them.

 

And Regina realizes she can remember. Not just the apartment and making breakfast, but every school morning, every lunch packed, every night of homework, every weekend adventure. She even remembers bringing the flying monkey home to meet Henry, albeit in his human state. She remembers everything, and there are tears in her eyes as she looks at Emma, who is smiling hopefully, willing this to have worked.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers.

  
It’s all she can manage to say, but it’s the only thing she really needs to. Emma has given her happy memories of a good life with Henry. It feels like Emma has given back her son.


	6. Bad Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired in part by this headcannon from scribblecat27:
> 
> http://scribblecat27.tumblr.com/post/88847370585/in-which-i-have-an-emma-swan-thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for references to past trauma for both Regina and Emma- Regina's abuse by her mother and Daniel's death, plus Emma's experiences in the foster system.

It’s over a week now since they buried Henry, and there is still no sign of Zelena, though Regina remains certain she will return, and Emma holds onto that certainty for dear life; it’s the only thing keeping her grounded now, the idea that Henry will be avenged, that she will be redeemed.

 

But they days keep moving by, and in any normal town she and Regina would be told to take some time, to deal with their grief. But this is Storybrooke, and Regina is the mayor, and Emma is the sheriff; they can’t just forget their responsibilities, especially when a fresh attack is imminent. And Emma is glad of this; she doesn’t know what she’d do with herself all day without work. How she’d keep her mind off Henry. Her control over her magic is much better now, and she doesn’t need intensive sessions with Regina to practice; the other woman suggested that she simply practice throughout the day, performing small tasks to get used to doing magic without her supervision and in the real world, away from the artificial constructions of Regina’s lessons.

 

David was reluctant to accept Emma’s return at first, feeling that she should take some time to herself. But the reality is that nothing in Storybrooke has been functioning properly since long before Zelena; there are still repairs that need to be finished since the havok Pan created when he came to town, and before that Greg and Tamara, and even before that, Cora. It’s just been one long string of destructive events. There are areas of town that are still cordoned off due to damage, where buildings are no longer safe to enter, where giant potholes make the road unusable, where fallen trees still lay, waiting to be removed. Plus, fearful residents are calling the station a hundred times a day to report every strange occurrence, every possible sign that Zelena might have returned, and even if every terrifying noise turns out to be a raccoon stuck in a garbage can, every report still needs to be investigated. Emma has caught David asleep at his desk three times now- between the work of reassuring the residents of Storybrooke, the wearing strain of always being on high alert, and the few hours of sleep he manages to snatch at home when Neal is settled, David cannot handle this alone.

 

“I tell him to just leave the baby to me,” Mary Margaret tells Emma, rolling her eyes. “He only  wants me anyway, at this age. Usually he needs a feed, and David can’t help with that, and there’s no point in both of us missing out on sleep. But he wants to be supportive and not feel like he’s leaving it all to me to handle. So he gets up every time I do, which is ridiculous because he can’t do anything, and then he goes to work and he’s exhausted.”

 

And since David seems determined to be a martyr, Emma ignores his protestations and returns to work. She has the Merry Men on call to patrol the forests and investigate possible sightings, and Ruby has been taking night shifts, her keen werewolf senses invaluable. Emma delegates, and manages, and files reports, and avoids the worried looks, and smiles appreciatively through the constant stream of condolences and sympathies. She slips out to the mayor’s office often, to strategize and get work orders signed and coordinate reconstruction.

 

Regina is at her desk as usual when Emma arrives this morning, leafing through paperwork; a sea of contracts and work orders and maps and plans scattered across her desk. She is dressed immaculately as usual, never a hair out of place, makeup perfect, but she looks tired, Emma notices. She has looked progressively more tired every day this week. Emma wonders if she’s sleeping, and then feels guilty that she herself is sleeping so well. What kind of mother can sleep at night when she’s just lost her child? But Emma does sleep well now, ever since she’d figured out how to tell the difference between her light and dark magic. It was like a calm had settled over her, a confidence tinged with anticipation. She relishes the thought of facing Zelena again. She always feels like this when she’s on a mission- she always felt this way when she was on a job as a bailbondsperson; completely focused.

 

Regina doesn’t look like she has the same feeling of being ‘in the zone’. She looks pallid, the colour drained from her usually bright, olive skin. Her eyes are dark and… is that a tremor in her hand? She picks up the same pieces of paper over and over, shifting them around and coming back to them again like she can’t focus, can’t remember what she was looking for. She reaches over to grab another file and knocks her coffee flying, but Emma’s reflexes are faster than Regina’s this morning and she freezes the toppling mug in place with a flick of her wrist, hot coffee suspended in mid air above the paperwork.

 

Regina looks up, suddenly noticing Emma hovering in the doorway.

 

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” she manages a tired smile, twitching her own hand so that the beverage is sucked back into place, and the cup rights itself.

 

“You ok?” Emma enters the room cautiously.

 

“Sure,” Regina replies, sitting back and surveying the chaos on her desk. “If you can call drowning in paperwork ok.”

 

“I was actually gonna add something to that…” Emma grimaces, holding out the latest file of work orders.

 

But Regina just holds out a hand passively to take it, adding it to the stack, resigned. Emma takes a seat opposite and watches Regina take a long draw on her recovered coffee.

 

“You look tired-” Emma starts and then immediately regrets it, catching the flash of displeasure in Regina’s eyes. Never tell a woman she looks tired, geez; she kicks herself. It’s hardly flattering and it’s stating the obvious. Still, she’s started now, better finish. “Are you still not sleeping?”

 

Regina sighs and lets her head fall back on her chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “Not really. I’ve been having nightmares…”

 

“About Henry?” Emma asks tentatively, knowing she’s probably the only person who can get away with talking to Regina like this when she’s so raw, but careful not to push it too much.

 

“No…” Regina’s brow crinkles, perplexed. “It’s so strange, you’d think I would dream about Henry, but I’m not.”

 

Emma feels a little jolt of vindication; so she _wasn’t_ this defective person who could carry on with her life having lost her son, while his other mother couldn’t sleep at night. She knows Archie would say everyone has different ways of grieving; she knows this because he’s said so several times, as he’s tried to convince her to stop by the office for a chat. But she can’t help comparing herself to Regina, knowing how similar their experiences are, and feeling the old insecurity, the old competition, that maybe she didn’t love Henry as much.

 

“I’m dreaming about my childhood,” Regina continues, her voice distant and her mind elsewhere. “But it’s odd, it’s not quite right.” She breaks off, seeming to come back to the present. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

 

But Emma is unwilling to allow Regina’s walls to go up again, not when it feels like they’ve made so much progress. And it’s important somehow that Regina doesn’t shut her out; she needs to know what the other woman is experiencing, connected as they are in their loss. So she says, “No, go on,” encouragingly and watches quietly as Regina decides to trust her.

 

“I’m a little girl at home with my parents. And my father is very angry with me. He’s shouting, and I don’t understand what I did wrong,” she looks genuinely distressed and Emma almost reaches out to her, but doesn’t want to interrupt, to break this fragile moment. “But it doesn’t make any sense, because my father never shouted at me, never raised his voice, never got angry. That was all my mother.” She smiles ruefully at Emma. “Sometimes… when I did something she didn’t like, or I tried to ‘rebel’ or do something my way instead of hers, she would freeze me in place and lift me up in the air. And I remember feeling so helpless, and so afraid. She could have done anything, and I had no way of stopping her. It was her way of… disciplining me, I suppose. Letting me know I couldn’t defy her. Like a time out.”

 

Emma looks horrified. “Isn’t the point of a time out to give the kid time to think about their actions? Or to calm down? I don’t think the complete removal of the child’s agency is the goal…”

 

Regina only shrugs; it was done. It was terrifying at the time, but there was nothing she could do about that now. Though it probably explained her intense need for control in adulthood… “Anyway my point is, it was always my mother who was the disciplinarian, not my father. I can’t recall a time he ever raised his voice; that’s why it’s so strange.”

 

Emma has always wondered about Regina’s relationship with her father; he was the key to casting the curse, because he was the person Regina loved most, but she had killed him. Emboldened by Regina’s sharing, she dares to ask the question.

 

“Why did you kill him?” she asks quietly.

 

Regina’s eyes snap up to meet Emma’s, and she’s not tired-looking any more. Her jaw is tight and Emma can see the flush of anger rising in her cheeks at the overstep and she hurries to elaborate. “I’m not judging! I just… never understood. You clearly loved him- you had to or the spell wouldn’t work. And you gave him up, the person you loved most, so you could hurt Mary Margaret and David. I guess I just always wondered, how that trade could have been worth it.”

 

She sees Regina sort of deflate, sitting back in her chair, smiling sadly.

 

“It wasn’t,” she replies finally. “But I thought it was at the time. I thought a lot of things… I wasn’t really in my right mind. That day Snow told me that she was the reason my mother knew about Daniel and I, something changed in me. I watched him die, you know; right in front of me. I watched my mother kill him. I was in shock, I was terrified, I wanted to die too. And I knew my mother wouldn’t let me; I had never been able to defy her. I was so trapped. So when Snow said that, I suddenly saw a different path- something I could actually control. After that all I could think about was Snow and everything she had and everything I’d lost. I was so caught up in my own misery; I couldn’t think about anything else. It was like, if I could make her feel as I did, things would be… set right. Or equalled out. I’m not sure. And… I was angry with my father. I loved him, but he’d hurt me too. I felt that, perhaps his sacrifice would be repayment for all the ways he’d failed me.”

 

“What do you mean?” Emma asks quietly.

 

How to explain this? How to describe how much she had loved her father, how she had trusted him, how he had meant the world to her. And then to realize, as she got older, that all his love couldn’t protect her. That he _wouldn’t_ protect her; he wasn’t strong enough.

 

“He was kind to me where my mother was rough and strict. But he never stopped her, never questioned her. And then when she decided to… to sell me to the king, my father just let it happen. He didn’t object. He knew what would happen to me. He knew what my life would become.” Regina’s voice cracks with emotion and Emma looks away, suddenly getting a glimpse of the overwhelming despair of this eighteen year old Regina. “I know he couldn’t have stopped my mother, but he didn’t even _say_ anything. Not one word.”

 

She quietly brushes away a tear and Emma pretends not to notice. They sit in silence, neither really knowing what to say after this revelation. Finally Emma speaks.

 

“The doesn’t sound like the same man in your dream.”

 

“No,” Regina agrees, grateful for the redirection. “That’s why it’s so strange. I think… I think he’s angry because I moved all the furniture around in my room? But I never did that- how could I move a bed and a dresser and bookcase as a small child?”

 

Emma doesn’t answer; she is completely white, and her hands are suddenly trembling.

 

“What is it?” Regina frowns, concerned.

 

“What did you say?” Emma finally manages.

 

“I… moved the furniture. In my dream.” Regina is becoming very concerned now; Emma looks like she just said she’d slaughtered a family of puppies. “Emma what is it?”

 

It doesn’t make sense. It’s Regina’s dream, not hers; it must be a coincidence. But the memory is so strong and she can see that day so clearly, even though she was only three years old at the time.

 

“That was me,” she whispers, and Regina’s frown deepens, not understanding. “I did that. I moved the furniture. I don’t know how, I don’t remember. I just remember… it was all in it’s regular place, and then it was in another, and somehow it was my fault. And my father- my foster father- he was so angry with me. They had a baby. They’d just had a baby, and they always seemed to think that I was doing things I shouldn’t be. They always angry with me for things that weren’t my fault. And then they sent me back to the group home. I think they thought… I might hurt their baby. But I wasn’t doing anything...”

 

Regina feels sick to her stomach; it’s all suddenly so horribly clear. Her dream wasn’t a dream; it had really happened, it was Emma’s memory. “You had magic as a child,” Regina tells her softly.

 

“What?” Emma starts. “No I-”

 

Regina watches realization dawning. “Oh my god.” Emma looks like her world just fell apart. “It really was me? I had magic the whole time?”

 

Something in Regina breaks as she watches Emma bury her head in her hands in shock, and she wonders how many odd and unexplained events there had been over the years; how many people had looked at her in uncertainty and fear, how many misunderstandings, how much rejection because of something Emma didn’t even know she was doing and couldn’t control.

 

She was never supposed to grow up in a world without magic. There should have been people around to explain what was happening to her. There’s only one reason there wasn’t. Nausea washes over Regina again.

 

“I was always kindof a loner,” Emma mumbles, staring at the floor. “I didn’t have a lot of friends- people didn’t exactly warm to me quickly. I thought it was… well I could be kindof an asshole. Sarcastic. Stubborn. Kindof defensive. I thought it was just that; people didn’t like me very much. But what if I was doing things that scared them off; doing magic without realizing it? They must have thought I was such a freak- no wonder they stayed away from me.”

 

Regina closes her eyes, as if that might make it easier to deal with Emma’s words. A week ago, she might just have felt guilty. She and Emma had been allies for a while now; they had found much common ground since those early days of constant conflict. But in the past week things had changed; Emma’s presence, her friendship, had become something she really relied on. And now that strange new closeness was intensified; she had lived Emma’s memories, she had felt that confusion and loneliness.

 

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” she whispers.

 

The other woman doesn’t seem to register the meaning; that this is a specific apology, an acknowledgement of responsibility, not just a platitude. But as she looks up at Regina and registers the empathy, the pain on the other woman’s face, she understands.

 

“I guess I should be glad,” she shrugs, trying to ease the tension. “I thought I was being an asshole. Turns out I was just a witch.”

 

Regina’s face twists even further into an expression of self-recrimination, and Emma reaches out before it gets any worse, taking the other woman’s hand reassuringly. “Regina, it’s ok. I mean, it’s not ok, but it’s in the past. There’s no use worrying about it now. I think we’ve spent enough time focused on the things we wish we’d never done. Life is too short to be so caught up in regret.”

 

Regina slides her fingers over Emma’s hand, not feeling any better, not wanting to feel any better because after all she should feel terrible about this. But Emma’s right, her feeling bad can’t help Emma, can’t fix the fact that she grew up without a family.

 

“If I could do it all over again, I would,” she whispers earnestly. “I never would have cast the curse.”

 

Even as she says it she isn’t completely sure it’s true, and Emma gives voice to her thoughts. “But then we never would have got Henry. I regret a lot of things; I regret how we got here. But I don’t regret where we are. If things had to happen this way for Henry to be in our lives, I’d do it over again.”

 

Regina nods, watery-eyed, knowing that she would too. It’s the most selfish thing, but she would.

 

“Maybe this is how everything was supposed to happen. We were just fulfilling our destinies,” Emma continues, her thumb stroking the smooth skin of Regina’s wrist soothingly. But her face is souring as she says it, because she doesn’t really believe that they are all just pawns with no say in anything that happened to them. Perhaps they had been manipulated- she thinks of Cora, or Rumpelstiltskin- but they all had choices. And she can’t believe it had been Henry’s destiny to die.

 

“I don’t think you really believe that,” Regina whispers, as if reading her thoughts.

 

“No,” Emma agrees. Then another thought suddenly occurs. “Wait, how is it that you’re dreaming about my childhood?”

 

Regina releases her hand and sits back with a sigh, Emma instantly missing the contact but following Regina’s lead and settling back in her chair.

 

“It must be a residual effect of the memory spell; you must have given me more than you were intending. As you were focusing Henry and family and New York, perhaps other extraneous memories were pulled in; your decision to keep him, your feelings about your own experiences with family and the foster system, your desire to give him the family you never had. Memories are tricky; everything is so interlinked. It’s difficult to separate things out if you’ve never done it before. And I think now my own mind must be trying to process it all; trying to understand where these new memories fit.”

 

That made sense to Emma; she had dreamed a lot about Henry’s childhood in Storybrooke when her own memories had returned, as her brain tried to reconcile two different timelines occupying the same space, and reinserting Regina into the memories that were not really hers.

 

“So you have my memories?”

 

“And you have mine,” Regina confirms.

 

It’s a little weird, this new intimacy, but Emma supposes it’s alright for Regina to know more about her history when she already knew so much about Regina.

  
“Well I guess that makes us even.”


	7. Our Glorious Saviours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking some liberties in this chapter with my interpretation of the writers’ magical finale because, let’s be honest, it didn’t make a whole lotta sense, did it. What even happened to Zelena anyways, is she actually dead?
> 
> This was supposed to be part of a longer chapter, but it was getting too big and I didn't want to keep readers waiting, so I split it. Part two will be more upbeat :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stalkerish behaviour in this chapter.

Two weeks and no Zelena. Regina has noticed Emma grow more and more antsy and impatient; she needs to act, she is spoiling for a fight. But this extra time is exactly what they needed; Emma has better control over her magic than ever, and Regina is starting to get the hang of this light-magic thing. Now the big question is, how exactly do they use it to defeat Zelena?

 

Light magic had been enough the first time around to incapacitate Zelena long enough for Regina to take her pendant. But after Zelena had supposedly ‘died,’ her magic somehow lived on, allowing Zelena’s spirit to finish her spell and activate the portal. What Zelena is now, Regina isn’t sure. This isn’t anything she has seen before, and this admission makes her highly uncomfortable. Her sister appears to be able to take corporeal form- or she had long enough to strike down Henry- but she is bodiless in every conventional sense. How do you kill something like that? How do you stop it, when you don’t know if you can touch it?

 

Regina knows someone who might have the answers, but she’s been avoiding speaking to him. At the best of times, any collaboration or alliance with Gold has worked against her, or has at least required her to bargain something, to sacrifice something she would rather not. Gold never does anything that isn’t in his best interests. And while she is sure he would like to see Zelena dead as much as the rest of them, there has been something… off about him since her sister returned. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he feels guilty; perhaps because he had been working with Zelena--albeit unwillingly, under the compulsion of the dagger--and now Henry is dead. And yet it hadn’t been so long ago that Gold had planned to sacrifice Henry to save himself from his ‘undoing’. She finds it hard to believe that his detached and uncharacteristically gleeless manner is because of some newfound sense of accountability.

 

Emma senses Regina’s unwillingness to talk to the man. She knows their relationship is strained; that their alliances have historically been out of mutual benefit. Villains stick together because they are outcasts from everyone else; they have little choice in who is willing to assist them. All they can do is offer a good bargain, knowing that moral compunction is unlikely to be a dissuader. Of course, things were more complicated between Regina and Rumpelstiltskin; he had corrupted and manipulated her as a child and used her to cast his curse. She in return had taken away the person he loved most and hidden her from him. There is understandable distrust and dislike on both sides.

 

But they have little choice; their own research into Zelena’s magic has yielded no information of worth, and the sister witches who empowered her don’t seem to have any counterparts in Storybrooke. They don’t know how Zelena escaped her cell, how she appeared to die but didn’t, how she is still here, what she is now, how to stop her. All they know is that her pendant gives her magic. And there’s no one who knows more about magic than Rumpelstiltskin.

 

\--

 

The shop is quiet when they walk in, the bell jangling discordantly. Emma can feel the tension rolling off Regina, but it’s not anger or distrust, she realizes quickly. Regina moves differently when she’s on the defensive; head held high, eyes defiant. Now she fiddles with the ring on her finger and casts about the overcrowded shop nervously, looking for someone. Belle, Emma realizes. Of all the people Regina has made apologies to, Belle seems to make Regina the most uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s because Belle was nothing to Regina; she had done nothing wrong, she had been a fellow victim of Rumpelstiltskin’s manipulations and Regina had capitalized on that fact, using the Dark One’s growing feelings for Belle to strike back at him. Where others in Storybrooke had been collateral damage in Regina’s quest for vengeance, it had usually been in a less direct way. Regina took aim at those she felt had wronged her, and her retribution was swift. Even her reign of terror was characteristically impersonal; people were arrested or executed to assure compliance, to instill discipline, to teach others a lesson. It wasn’t personal. It was unusual for her to exact revenge by proxy, and over such a long time. Belle had suffered greatly at Regina’s hands, so the Evil Queen could punish someone else; a woman had suffered so that a man would be made to feel bad. It left a bad taste in Regina’s mouth. If she could have taken on the Dark One directly, she would have. Instead she had resorted to the kind of tactics she most detested.

 

Gold appears at the back of the shop, summoned by the bell, and Regina’s chin goes up, shoulders squared, defiant once again. She will not show weakness in front of this man.

 

“The Evil Queen and the Saviour,” he sighs wearily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

He looks worn and tired; irritated by their presence but lacking the energy to do anything about it.

 

“We need information,” Emma cuts right to the chase. “We need to know how it is that Zelena is still here. And how to get rid of her.”

 

Something crosses Gold’s face; some unreadable, passing expression, and the little alarm bell goes off in Emma’s head. He’s hiding something. But it’s Gold; he’s always hiding something. This vague sense of unease when in the man’s presence is familiar to her. Regina moves to stand beside her, eyes alert, curious, and Emma knows she saw it too.

 

“So, you mean to _kill_ Zelena, do you?” Gold sounds amused as he looks doubtfully at Emma in the gloom of his shop, like he doesn’t believe she has it in her, and anger boils up in her chest because no, usually she wouldn’t have it in her; she doesn’t kill as freely as Gold seems to. But she will make an exception in this case.

 

“She killed our son,” she responds, her voice determinedly even. “If she comes back, it won’t be to apologize. We gave her a chance. We’re not gonna take the risk that she’ll hurt anyone else.”

 

Gold’s eyes swivel to Regina, the presumed other party to this ‘we’. Regina returns his gaze coldly. She is glad of the certainty in Emma’s voice; her unwavering belief that they were of one mind on this. Because it had been Regina’s choice to let Zelena live, even though she knew that Emma would have blocked any attempt to kill her at the time; that she would have argued for justice, not vengeance. Regina had worried that it was her fault; that she had allowed her sister to live, that she had shown mercy and it had cost them their son. But Emma would have made the same choice. She had stood by Regina’s decision to spare Zelena’s life and lost Henry as a result.

 

Regina knows that Gold wouldn’t have spared Zelena; that he thinks her mercy was sentimental foolishness, and that Zelena’s targeting of Henry was an inevitable result of her bad decision. She had felt his sneer of disbelief when she told her sister she made her own destiny, when she refused to let Gold put a hand on the defeated woman. She felt his condescension when she went to talk to Zelena later, to try and convince her she could take another path, that evil isn’t born, it’s made. He knew how much those words meant to her; they held the possibility of her own redemption; and they explained her actions even if they didn’t excuse them. She understood her sister completely; she wanted to give the woman a second chance. Well, she wouldn’t make that mistake again. And she would not suffer Gold’s judgement in the meantime.

 

“Just tell us how we can kill her,” Regina asks impatiently.

 

“Well, dearie, I don’t know if she can be killed. She doesn’t have a body any more, after all.”

 

“Right, because she ‘killed herself.’” Regina’s tone is thick with disbelief, and Gold’s eyes flicker towards her nervously. Emma watches, the little alarm bell getting louder.

 

“Indeed,” Gold smiles thinly.

 

“Do you think she knew she would come back?” Emma questions, seeking the source of her unease. “Did she kill her body so she could come back as this unkillable spirit thing?”

 

Regina shakes her head, eyes still on Gold. “But then why wouldn’t she have done that earlier? If her body was a weakness and she could live without it, why not remove it altogether; make sure she was completely indestructible?”

 

Gold shrugs, not appreciating the way in which Emma and Regina’s goals seemed to have brought them into a singularly focused and highly effective alliance. Things went better for him when they were at each others’ throats. “Maybe she thought she didn’t need to. Maybe she underestimated you.”

 

Regina’s eyes narrow at the hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Or maybe she didn’t know she wouldn’t die.”

 

“In the video footage from the station, it looked like she was committing suicide. Like she knew she was defeated and this was her out. Her escape from her punishment, from her life, not from her jail cell,” Emma muses, remembering Zelena’s look of terror when Regina had taken her pendant and Gold had gone after her. The woman was terrified of death.

 

“So she thought when she died, she would really be gone,” Regina continues, reaching the same conclusion.

 

“Where’s Belle?” Emma abruptly switches tack, her friendly smile not quite hiding the suspicious look in her eyes. “I meant to congratulate you both. In all the distraction of the last two weeks, I forgot that you two have just got married.”

 

Belle’s absence is suddenly palpable. Regina realizes she has not seen the other woman with Gold at all in recent memory. She has been at Granny’s a number of times, sitting at a table whispering with Ruby, or buried in a book. And now that Regina thinks about it, Belle always looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, not like she had just married the man she loved. And she had been so quick to leave when Regina entered a room… Regina had assumed it was continued dislike and distrust born of their troubled history. But now that she thinks about it, there was something a little furtive in the way she glanced over at Regina has she hurried away; something like… guilt?

 

“She went for a walk with Ruby,” Gold replies, wearing a smile so tight and so forced it barely stretches across his face.

 

“She does spend a lot of time with Ruby,” Regina smiles back, wearing a predatory look like she’s just spotted weakness and is zeroing in for the kill. “for someone newly initiated into marital bliss.”

 

“She and Red are good friends.” Gold’s smile is barely there any more.

 

“Yes they are,” Regina purrs, Emma watching Gold carefully to catch any glimpse behind the mask as Regina pokes and prods. “But I’m sure she’ll be hurrying back soon; she must want to spend time with her beloved husband. Love draws people together in dangerous times like these; it really puts things in perspective.”

 

“Indeed it does,” Gold’s tone is flat and harsh now. “Well I’m sorry I couldn’t be more assistance, but I’m sure you ladies will succeed nonetheless.” He turns to Emma, avoiding Regina’s intense gaze. “Just try not to accidentally surrender your powers by kissing a pirate, eh dearie? Although, word has it you and the swashbuckling casanova are on the outs now...”

 

The parting shot instantly shatters the pretense of civility they’d been acting under, and Regina’s hand quickly closes around Emma’s wrist in a warning; keep your cool, we’ve hit a nerve. Emma responds by carefully resettling her face in a mask of serenity and smiling at Gold.

 

“Thanks for the tip.”

 

They turn to leave, feeling Gold’s eyes boring into them as they exit the gloom for the relief of daylight.

 

“He’s lying,” Regina murmurs as soon as they are out of earshot.

 

“Yup,” Emma confirms. “He knows more about Zelena’s death than he’s letting on. But I think he’s telling the truth about not knowing how she’s back.”

 

Regina let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Oh yes, he wasn’t expecting that.”

 

Emma frowns. “He played a direct role in her death, that’s for sure. And Belle must know it.”

 

“She does,” Regina agrees. “She hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since Henry died.”

 

“Me either. But she wouldn’t have given Gold the dagger. She wouldn’t have helped him kill Zelena. She believes in redemption over vengeance as much as we do.”

 

Regina’s heart jumps a little at this repeated we, but she simply responds, “She might not have knowingly assisted him, but at the very least she knows what he did and she’s keeping quiet.”

 

It made sense; Belle’s sudden distance, the guilty looks, and Gold’s palpable anger- not only had Zelena cheated him of his revenge, but he had lost Belle’s trust in the process. At any rate, he had been completely useless in terms of any actual ideas. Clearly he wanted Zelena dead, but he couldn’t help in terms of how to achieve that. Regina and Emma were going to have to figure that out on their own.

 

They head towards Emma’s car with the intention of returning to the mayor’s house for a real test run of their combined light magic, when Hook rounds the corner directly ahead, skulking down the street towards them. Emma stops dead, Gold’s taunts still fresh in her mind. She has been avoiding Hook for weeks now, yet he remains undeterred. At first she told herself she’d talk to him eventually, once she got things sorted out; after she’d dealt with Zelena; when she’d got her head around losing Henry. But these things were never going to be quickly resolved, and her avoidance had become more and more awkward until she knew she was just being plain rude, that she should say _something_ to him, even if it was just, _I need time_ , or, _please give me some space_. But she wasn’t sure if Hook would even listen to such a request; he had shown a general disinterest in heeding such requests in the past. It wasn’t entirely his fault, she reasoned. He had grown up in a world of fairytales, where women who say ‘no’ actually mean maybe; where you have to fight for the girl; where obstacles are expected on the path to true love; where persistence is the truest expression of devotion. She should have just been straight with him, but at the time she couldn’t think about anything but Henry, and when she started to be able to function again, she was so singularly focused on Zelena that she couldn’t face the distraction and commitment of time and emotions to a ‘break up’ (if they had ever even really been ‘together’).

 

So she had simply completely avoided him. She expected that he would be angry or offended; he saw their kiss as the start of a beautiful and inevitable love story. But it was just one kiss, after a highly emotional adventure through the past in which Emma thought she might lose the family she had just found. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She had acted impulsively and from a sense of gratitude; both to him for helping her, and more generally because she had got back to her family, to her home. She was happy and secure for the first time in a long time and she just reached out on instinct, suddenly more open to connection. But things had changed to abruptly and so completely. She was not in that happy place any more. She was not looking to embark on some epic love story. Her son’s death was not just another hurdle to overcome in the fairytale of Emma and Hook. And rather than acknowledge her need for space and respectfully withdrawing, Hook was making this all about him. She kept her phone switched off most of the time because he kept calling; she had David running interference at home, and she made sure she was out on patrol more often than she was at the office, so he wouldn’t know where to find her. He just could not fathom that she wouldn’t let him help her. That perhaps he _couldn’t_ help her. And the complete lack of respect this demonstrated was the biggest turnoff Emma has ever encountered. The more he pursued her, the more assiduously she avoided him.

 

Regina notices the tension that suddenly grips Emma’s body and looks up to find its source, spotting Hook at the corner up ahead, and she glowers instantly. The last thing she wants this morning is for a lovesick pirate with stalker tendencies to distract Emma from the task at hand. She wishes Emma would just get rid of him once and for all, even though she knows that the other woman favours avoidance over emotional confrontation, that she is awkward about expressing her feelings, that she doesn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings even though he has done so little to deserve such courtesy. Unlike Regina, who has fought hard for acceptance, for redemption; who has put her own life on the line so many times so others would be safe; who still works every day to resist the urge to lash out defensively when someone looks at her the wrong way; who hungers for goodness and to be allowed to be herself instead of maintaining this prickly exterior so that no one can ever hurt her again.

 

But Hook? He swaggers about unapologetically, assuming he can charm his way out of any situation, not really understanding or caring about the lives he has ruined- mostly of women. And yes, Regina had hurt a lot of those women too but she had tried earnestly to make amends, struggling to put aside her pride and her fear of rejection to reach out and say that she was sorry. They still looked at her with distrust. Why was she so difficult to forgive when others who had left destruction in their paths were so readily brought back into the fold? It was the same with Rumpelstiltskin. She cast the spell _Rumpelstiltskin_ created, but she is the pariah. He manipulated her mother into doing his dirty work, but Cora was the one who was killed for it. His allegiance to Henry was questionable at the best of times, but he was quickly forgiven by all. He tricked them all so he could have his revenge on Zelena, and now the woman was some kind of incorporeal unstoppable force who had killed her son. People’s memories were long when it came to some mistakes, she thinks bitterly, but they quickly forgot for others.

 

Caught up in these thoughts, Regina doesn’t notice Emma springing into action; not leaping into the car which is parked right outside Gold’s shop, as one might expect. Instead the jolt of adrenaline fuelled by mild panic gives her the foolish notion that this is the perfect opportunity to practice her teleportation skills.

 

So she grabs Regina’s hand, focuses intently on where she wants to go, and before Regina can stop her they disappear…

 

...only to reappear directly above the lake, splashing into it dramatically.

 

It takes Emma a moment to figure out what’s happened as she realizes she can’t breathe, recognizes that she is underwater, and splutters violently to the surface.

 

As she looks around wildly for the other woman, she spots Regina breaking the surface just to her left. And as their eyes meet, it takes her less than a second to realize that Regina is furious.

 

“Regina…” Emma sputters apologetically, but the other woman cuts her off with a look.

 

“Not a word, Swan,” she hisses as she starts paddling awkwardly to the edge of the lake, where a small audience has gathered.

 

Most of the snickering onlookers scatter as the Evil Queen drags herself from the water, surveying her ruined dress with a look many haven’t seen since the early days of her rule. Only an amused Ruby and Granny dare to stick around for the show. Them and… Is that Robin? _Shit_ , Emma thinks. This couldn’t get any worse; Robin and Marion are standing at the water’s edge, mouths agape, with Roland in tow, clearly having been enjoying a nice family day in the park before their outing interrupted by the sudden appearance of the Evil Queen, who spots them just as Emma does. The look on Regina’s face just about breaks Emma’s heart.

 

“Regina! You’re soaking wet!” Roland chirps gleefully.

 

The woman struggles valiantly to smile at him and say something funny to defuse the situation, but her mind is completely blank. Robin and Marian fill her field of vision, and all she sees is judgement and disgust from Marian; bewilderment and pity from Robin. It’s more than she can take. Surely now Marian she can see she is no threat; no queen. She is a shell of her former self. She turns away from them, fighting tears, trying not to think about the yawning chasm in her chest and the fact that she can’t breathe. She could stand it while she still had her pride, her dignity. She could step aside and watch her fairytale dream be snatched away once again, because it was the right thing to do, because it was her fault Robin had lost his wife in the first place, because she had been the cause of that pain. But not like this; not in such a state. The one thing she had always held on to was her poise. She had always fought hard not to show weakness, to stay in control, so even if she lost, no one would see she was broken. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Well there was no chance of that now. Thanks to Emma Swan.

 

Emma staggers out of the lake, pulling pond weed from her hair and eying Regina nervously, assessing the damage.

 

“Regina,” she tries again, wearing what is rapidly becoming her characteristic cringing apology face. Why is she always having to apologise to this woman? Maybe Regina’s right- everything she does, no matter how good the intention, comes back to bite Regina.

 

“Miss Swan,” she utters cooly, her voice cracking as she fights to stay in control “I think it best that you get yourself to my house as quickly as you can, and _on foot_. We _clearly_ still have much work to do.”

 

And with that, she vanishes.

 

Across the lake, Granny shakes her head and mutters, “Ladies and gentlemen, our glorious saviours,” before walking away.

 

 


	8. Domestics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it took a while to get this one done- it's a much bigger chapter and I didn't want to rush it. I think it's worth the wait?

 

Emma briefly considers following Regina’s lead and giving the whole teleportation thing another go, but the mayor’s emphatic instructions ( _on foot_ ) and her reluctance to risk a second swim in the lake cause her to think better of the idea. Instead, she hurries back to her car- from which the skulking Hook has long since departed- hunts out a spare pair of jeans in her truck, peels off her soaked pants and replaces them with the dry pair.

 

The initial shock of the cold dip has worn off, leaving her just feeling incredibly stupid. What had she been thinking, just using magic on impulse like that, and dragging Regina along too? It was Gold’s criticism that had prompted her impetuous behaviour; he had goaded her about Hook, and about being able to take on Zelena, and she had wanted so badly to prove that her magic was enough. She had been aiming to get them into the mayor’s house- how could she have gone so far wrong? She could have teleported them into a wall, she could have killed them!

 

And yet, there is one emotion that is stronger than the rest right now, and it’s not embarrassment. She knew the news of her magical mishap would be spreading through the town like wildfire, but that didn’t really bother her. She had a reputation of being gung-ho, flying by the seat of her pants, but always pulling it out of the bag in the end. No, the toe-curling, stomach churning feeling she was gripped by in this moment, she was pretty sure came from Regina. Because, while it’s true she had been anxious to flee from Hook as quickly as possible, a little part of her wanted to show off how much her magic had improved. She’d got cocky. And rather than impress Regina, she had nearly drowned the woman. And in front of Robin and Marian! Emma pictures the look on Regina’s face as she locked eyes with Robin across the pond, and she is overwhelmed with regret. How much Regina must hate her right now. Or probably she wasn’t even thinking about Emma at all; she was likely just feeling awful because she had been made to look a fool in front of her ex, and it was all Emma’s fault.

 

Perhaps it’s this singular emotion that causes her to head straight to the Mills residence without stopping to properly dry out, not wanting to keep Regina waiting and delay their much-needed practice further. It’s only when she arrives that she realizes she is still fairly soggy, and momentarily considers using magic to dry out her clothes. She quickly decides against this; the vision of herself standing naked at Regina’s door after unsuccessfully replacing her outfit is more embarrassment than she can handle today. So she just waits in the foyer, uncomfortably damp, until Regina appears at the door.

 

Regina recognizes the blonde hair and red jacket through the mottled glass pane of her office door, and considers just ignoring the knocking. True, she had told Emma to get her ass over to her house on the double, but now she’s here Regina realizes she just doesn’t have the energy to deal with Emma’s justifications and her all-too-familiar guilt face and her puppy eyes. She is tired, and still cold, and she feels stupid and embarrassed about Robin. And she’s not sure she can keep from being angry at Emma if she sees the woman right now. Their relationship is so complicated, between the guilt and defensiveness on both sides from past and present offences, the self-righteous defenses, the grief and the growing co-dependance; it’s exhausting just to be around Emma. And yet, it’s increasingly difficult to be alone.

 

In the end, the reality is that they need to practice their magic- clearly, they desperately need to- otherwise they will be defenseless against Zelena. And while part of Regina feels like she’s already lost everything she cares about, she knows she cannot just sit back and watch Zelena destroy this town. It’s _her_ town. Plus, some of it’s inhabitants are growing on her.

 

She steels herself before opening the door, and finds Emma waiting on her doorstep, looking like a half-drowned kitten. Her hair is plastered to her head and her boots are soaked and her teeth are chattering from the cold. Why hadn’t she gone home to change? Had she really just run straight over here?

 

The first thing Regina had done was change into sweatpants and an oversized sweater; an outfit which Emma is now staring at in confusion. Is Regina in pyjamas? And her hair is in its natural curly state rather than being flat-ironed. Emma has never seen her looking so… casual. But actually on closer inspection the sweater is almost certainly cashmere, so it’s not like she’s dressed in Emma’s version of laid-back. She does look lovely though.

 

Regina is also staring in confusion. “Emma, you’re still soaked. Didn’t you think to get changed?”

 

“I didn’t want to waste any more time…” Emma mutters sheepishly as she drips all over Regina’s floor.

 

Emma can often be self-righteous and willfully obtuse, so convinced of her own good intentions that she won’t acknowledge their unintended effects, and Regina in return becomes defensive and closed off and angry. But right now Emma is so compliant, so anxious to restore equilibrium, and after the last few weeks Regina is more inclined to be forgiving. It is harder for them to stay angry at each other now; they have such intimate knowledge of each others’ experiences, that they instinctively move towards reconciliation. And Emma does look so ridiculous, standing in a puddle of lakewater, staring at Regina in her pyjamas. Oh yes, the saviours of Storybrooke indeed.

 

Regina sighs, moving her arm in a decisive wave, and instantly Emma’s hair is dry and she is re-dressed in something warm and clean.

 

It’s a strange feeling, to have been just stripped down and reclothed by your former-nemesis-now-ally or whatever it is they are to each other these days, but it all happens so quickly Emma barely has time to utter a squeak of surprise. And Regina’s already leaving, heading towards the living room and expecting Emma to follow, which she does, though she’s preoccupied by the new clothes, which aren’t her own.

 

“Are these yours?” she asks, frowning down at her new attire.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve raided my wardrobe, Miss Swan.”

 

“Usually I’m the one who gets to pick them out and put them on,” Emma mutters, perplexed, fidgeting as she notices the scent of Regina’s coconut moisturizer on the sweater, which now sits so close to her skin, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

 

Regina has the fire going in the living room, and has hung Emma’s clothes beside it to dry. The warmth brings welcome relief and her teeth stop chattering. But Regina is still being frosty; keeping her distance and eyeing Emma warily. She needs to try and set things back on an even keel.

 

“Listen, Regina, there’s something I wanted to say-”

 

“Can we not do this right now. Emma? I just don’t have the energy for yet another rehashing of all your good intentions.”

 

The remark is cutting, but Emma bites her tongue. Regina is understandably upset, and she doesn’t want to get into a row. She just wants to get this out and then move on. So she swallows down her knee-jerk defensive response, takes a deep breath, and focuses on making this about Regina.

 

"That’s not what I want either. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for using magic on you without asking. And I’m sorry that my changing the past hurt you in the present. And I’m sorry that you have to deal with seeing Robin with Marian now and that my actions today made that even worse. I screwed up. But I’m going to do better, I promise.”

 

Regina stares at her for a minute, unsure how to react, but eventually just responds with a quiet, “Thank you.”

 

Emma gives her a small smile in return, relieved at the dissipating tension. She hates to be at odds with Regina; it was never very fun, but these days it feels like her whole world is off-kilter when they are fighting. If losing Henry did one good thing, it was bring them together in mutual understanding and support. And for Henry as much as for herself and Regina, she won’t let her pride get in the way of that. She’ll make all the apologies she needs to.

 

“Let’s just leave teleportation well alone for now,” Regina continues firmly.

 

Emma frowns, unimpressed. “But how will I ever learn if I don’t try? Practice makes perfect, right? I managed it with the fire.”

 

“Fire is different- we’re talking about transporting your body using apparently highly unreliable GPS. You were aiming for my house and you dropped us in a lake. It’s dangerous, Emma. You can’t just practice til you get it right when the next time you get it wrong could mean your death.”

 

Emma feels the heat rising in her cheeks. She has never been one to respond well to _no_ or _you can’t_ or _you’ll have to wait_. They don’t have time to wait, and they can’t hold back. It would be do or die when Zelena showed up, and she doesn’t want that to be the next time she attempts teleportation. She’s going to figure this out now, and she’s going to get it right.

 

“I can do this, Regina. You told me the power was inside me; I just have to focus. In fact, you nearly killed me to show me that. Where’s the Regina that was willing to dangle me over a canyon to show me that I could save myself?”

 

“That was different- I was speaking about magic in a more general sense. This is a very specific spell...” But Regina’s not even convincing herself. Why is she so anxious to prevent Emma from trying dangerous magic? She had never shied away from pushing the woman before, and here Emma is all determined and driven and in exactly the frame of mind she needs her to be, and Regina is being the cautious one?

 

Emma isn’t listening anyway. “I can do this, Regina. I know I can. Where shall I go? Somewhere nice and open- maybe right in the middle of town. Or is that not specific enough? How about outside Granny’s? On the street? No walls or people or tables to get in the way. I just need to focus…”

 

“Emma,” Regina begins sternly, as the other woman closes her eyes and pictures the street, the patio at Granny’s, the smell of the cooking, the sounds of the people inside.

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina repeats, an edge of concern in her voice now, but smoke is already starting to swirl around the motionless, singularly focused woman, until it finally consumes her…. and she is gone.

 

“Emma!” Regina is looking around wildly and not even bothering to conceal her panic any more.

 

She listens in silence, alert for the smallest sound, trying to ignore the pounding in her chest to hear any indication that Emma could still be somewhere in the house; could be trapped somewhere. But she already knows from first hand experience that _distance_ isn’t a problem for Emma, it’s in _accuracy_ with which she struggles. The minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. She thinks about transporting herself to Granny’s to see if Emma made it there safely, but if she didn’t, then what? Emma could literally be anywhere. What was she going to do- teleport from one part of town to the next, shouting her name?

 

Regina is still standing there, paralyzed with indecision, when she notices the smoke beginning to swirl again, and her heart jumps with hope that maybe she did it, maybe she figured it out, maybe she was safe. _Please dear god…_

 

When Emma rematerializes the look of triumph on her face tells Regina all she needs to know, and the mayor’s anxiety quickly gives way to irritation. What did Emma think she was doing, making her worry like that? It was so irresponsible.

 

But before she can offer a sharp reprimand, Emma is presenting her with a pastry box, grinning broadly, flushed with success.

 

“I did it!” she announces. “I went to Granny’s. Look, this is proof!”

 

She doesn’t mention that the ‘proof’ she selected from all the offering’s at the diner was the dark chocolate tart she’d seen Regina eying wistfully on a number of occasions. Regina doesn’t need to know she’s quite _that_ desperate to be back in her good books. But the little smile of approval she gets when Regina peaks in the box is worth it.

 

“So you went exactly where you were aiming for?” Regina quizzes her, noting how Emma’s eyes look up and a little to the left in that way that means she’s just been caught out. “Emma?”

 

“ _Almost_ ,” she confesses. “I actually ended up in the kitchen, not outside.”

 

She’d caused quite a scene, appearing out of nowhere and giving Granny a fright. She had never heard the woman shriek before- it was quite unnerving. She probably could’ve given her a heart attack. As it was, the only casualty was the pot of chili Granny had hurled in her direction- on instinct, apparently- but Emma had reacted quickly enough to avoid a second soaking of the day, this time in boiling hot tomato sauce.

 

But Regina doesn’t need to know about all that; she is already gearing up to lecture Emma on the number of ways that she could have been killed by teleporting inside the diner instead of in the nice open space on the street that she had been aiming for. Emma frowns at her quickly deflating victory.

 

“Ok, so I clearly need more practice.” Her eyes light up mischievously as a new idea occurs to her. “I guess I’ll just have to try again. Where to this time? How about the Rabbit Hole? You want some wine to go with that dessert? I’m on it!”

 

Regina only manages to get out, _Emma stop_ , before the other woman is gone and she is left anxiously waiting again, cursing her damn impetuousness.

 

But Emma reappears more quickly this time, again glowing with success and this time brandishing a bottle of wine.

 

“It’s a Malbec,” she reports, handing it to Regina. “Apparently it pairs well with dark chocolate. You like Argentine wines, right?”

 

Regina nods, not sure how Emma knows this about her, and trying to maintain her scowl of disapproval.

 

“I appeared right outside the door this time; exactly where I was aiming for,” Emma continues. “I think it helps if I think about the last time I went to a place. It makes it feel more tangible.”

 

Regina nods, thinking of how she used that trick herself when she was just starting to teleport. “That’s all well and good if you’ve actually been somewhere recently.”

 

Emma scowls. Regina seems determined to rain on her parade. “Ok. So I’ll try somewhere I’ve never been, but I know it exists. Like that new Mexican place. Are you hungry? Because I’m starving.”

 

“That’s _not_ Mexican food,” Regina snorts derisively, before adding thoughtfully, “but… Have you ever been to that little latin grocery store on the far side of town? The one with the red awning?”

 

“Can’t say that I have, but I know the one.”

 

“I’ll fix us something to eat if you can pick me up some some ajies dulces peppers. And some fresh culantro.”

 

Emma looks at her blankly so Regina clarifies. “It’s a herb. Just ask the woman who owns the place- she’ll know what you mean. Tell her it’s for sofrito.”

 

\---

 

When Emma returns, groceries in hand, the house already smells delicious.

 

“Mission accomplished,” she says, handing Regina the bag. “Now what can I do to help?”

 

“Did you cook much, when you lived in New York?” Regina asks doubtfully.

 

“Yeah actually I did. Which is weird because I never really cooked that much before, but I used to make all kinds of different foods with Henry-” she stops abruptly, eyes wide as a thought occurs to her. “You did that! Those were your recipes, your memories. You made me good at cooking!”

 

“Well I had only ever seen you fry an egg or pour milk over cereal before. I didn’t want Henry to get scurvy.”

 

Emma narrows her eyes, wanting to be annoyed but having to acknowledge that Regina has a point. And she did make some really excellent meals in the year she and Henry had lived alone.

 

So instead she just picks up a knife and moves to stand beside Regina. “You want me to be your sous-chef then? I’m sure I’ll be great at it- I know exactly how you like everything, after all.”

Regina pushes a chopping board of tomatoes towards her, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You can chop these.”

 

They work together in silence, Regina frying onions with diced bacon, adding spices; Emma stirring the simmering the pot of tomatoes. Emma opens the wine and pours them each a glass. It comes so naturally; they move around each other like they have been doing this for years.

 

“So how did you learn how to cook?” Emma ask, sipping from her glass. “I mean, you were a queen; surely you never cooked a meal a day in your life before you came here.”

 

“Yes that’s true. But then I had thirty years of living in a town full of people who had lived off potatoes and whatever they managed to kill in the forest their whole lives. Why do you think everyone’s at Granny’s all the time- she’s the only one who makes anything worth eating. I learned fast.”

 

“Did you cook with Henry?”

 

Regina smiles. “Yes, he always loved helping me in the kitchen. Though I think he snacked more than he really helped.”

 

“Same,” Emma laughs. “I think probably only half the ingredients actually made it into whatever we were making.” She falls silent suddenly, and Regina looks up at her change in demeanor. “I wish that all those memories were really real. Everything I remember about him growing up; they’re your memories, not mine.”

 

“They’re real to you,” Regina replies softly. “And they were real to him. He remembered his childhood with both of us.”

 

“I’m forgetting. Now I have my old memories back, I can feel the ones from the curse fading. It’s like, when I went to the store just now, I knew exactly what I was looking for. Even though I didn’t recognize the names, I knew the herbs by sight. I think I remember more clearly when I’m around you.”

 

Being around Regina is, in fact, like experiencing a fairly constant state of deja vu. Everything is familiar, but she can never say how or why. The more she focuses on the feeling, the stranger it gets, but she finds that if she ignores it and just acts on instinct, everything begins to feel natural.

 

“I’d like to remember,” she continues. “Not just because of Henry, but all the other stuff too. Like, cooking. No one ever showed me how to cook. And foster homes… well they tend to operate on a pretty strict budget. Not a lot of room for culinary experimentation. Not a lot of say in what goes on the menu. Lots of potatoes,” she smiles at Regina, wondering if the offerings in Storybrooke during those early year might have been similar. “Plus, with all the kids I lived with over the years it was kindof a case of fighting for what you could get. I just remember eating as fast as I could so I could get seconds before everyone else ate it all. It was kindof like feeding time at the zoo. But with Henry, we would spend hours reading through recipe books, coming up with new ideas, working together to create something delicious from scratch. Plus all the little hiccups- trying to rescue the sauce from burning; adding too many chili peppers; forgetting the main ingredient and having to start over; last minute dashes to the grocery store…”

 

“Your style of cooking sounds a lot more chaotic than mine.”

 

“Yea it was. But it felt like family, you know?”

 

Regina smiles as she spoons beans and rice onto plates and ladles a generous helping of the bacon-infused sofrito on top. If it were her kitchen, Emma would never be allowed to get away with that kind of lackadaisical approach to dinner. The recipe would be read thoroughly, all the ingredients laid out beforehand, everything measured carefully. Henry would studiously check the instructions and read them aloud to keep everyone on track; Emma would no doubt be too liberal with the sweetener, or too assiduous about ‘checking the taste’ before the food was ready, and Regina would sigh and pretend to be annoyed. Regina finds that these little imaginings came faster and easier these days. She knows it must be a side effect of shared memories; her mind trying to figure out a way to slot Emma into the life she remembers with Henry. But she doesn’t try to resist it; she finds it comforting.

 

But now Emma is staring at the plates of food with a horrified expression that Regina doesn’t understand, until she looks at what she’s doing and realizes she has made up three plates.

The jolt of realization, of being yanked from her sweet fantasy and into harsh reality, is instantly deflating, and she drops the ladle, crumpling inwardly.

 

“So stupid,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head in reprehension.

 

Tears have filled Emma’s eyes as she stares at Regina and at the plates, not sure what to do or what to say. One simple action, one little mistake looms large in its implications and she is at a loss as to how to recover from this. She wants to say it’s ok, that she’s done this too, probably every day since Henry died. That she looks up for him every time a door opens. That she still orders two hot chocolates at Granny’s and then doesn’t have the heart to give one back, or to drink both, so she just sits and watches it go cold. But Regina looks like she’s about to break apart and Emma can’t make her voice work so she just moves on instinct. She’s in front of Regina in a moment, reaching out tentatively, unsure of her embrace will be appreciated. But Regina steps towards her and lets Emma slide her arms around her waist as she rests her head against Emma’s shoulder. They stand cautiously pressed together, unsure of how to be or what to do but needing human contact; something to anchor them.

 

Regina breaks first, taking a deep breath to pull herself together, stepping back from Emma, trying not to be too hurried because she doesn’t want to give the impression that this was unwelcome, but she also doesn’t want to fall apart right now. There’s too much at stake. Plus, despite how far she and Emma have come, she’s not ready to let Emma see her like that yet. She hates anyone to see her undone.

 

So she brushes away her tears and smoothes back her hair, looking anywhere but at Emma. And she picks up the third plate and puts it aside. She can’t throw it out and she can’t put it with the leftovers; it’s too clear an acknowledgement that Henry won’t be here to eat it. She’ll put it in the refrigerator later, with all the other plates of food she put together before she remembered that he’s gone.

 

Emma takes the opportunity to wipe her own cheeks and to take a big gulp of wine to try and settle herself. Then she takes her plate to the dining room and settles down to eat with Regina in silence. The food is good, and rich, and warm. She gets why the sharing of food is such a big part of the grieving process; people bringing food because they want to do _something_. And while the thought of a person being gone is so huge and oppressive and all-consuming, food can be simple and comforting; she can appreciate the small good things that still exist, like the sweetness of peppers and the tang of tomato and the nourishing smokey indulgence of bacon. She can cook with Regina and sit together and eat together and share this moment.

 

When they are done Emma offers to do the dishes, but Regina just flicks her wrist and the dirty plates disappear, the leftovers are put away, and the kitchen is cleared.

 

“You gotta teach me how to do that,” Emma smiles, thinking of how much cleaner her apartment would be if she didn’t actually have to clean it.

 

“Maybe after we defeat Zelena,” Regina smiles back, feeling a bit more like herself again. “Priorities, Emma.”

 

“Right. Zelena.” In all the domesticity and the emotion, she had temporarily forgotten the actual purpose of her visit: magic practice. “So how do you wanna do this?”

 

Regina holds out her hands across the table, palms up, and Emma takes them, following Regina’s example and closing her eyes. She focuses on her magic; on how the emotion rises up in her chest; on how it flows through her; on how her fingertips tingle with it; on the feeling of her hands against Regina’s; on how Regina’s skin feels warm with the power flowing just beneath the surface…

 

Her eyes snap open as magic surges through her. Regina is staring back, mouth agape. This is powerful; more so than it has ever been before.

 

“Do you feel that??” Emma gasps. “That’s incredible-it’s so strong! How come it never felt like this before?”

 

Regina shakes her head, unsure. “We’ve never used light magic together before. When you gave me your memories, you just let me take them; we weren’t working together. And in the past, I’ve always been using dark magic when we worked together.”

 

“I feel like I could do anything!” Emma’s face is full of wonder and excitement. She lets go of Regina’s hands experimentally, but the feeling stays. She stretches out her arm in the direction of the wine bottle that sits on the counter in the kitchen, and it flies towards her instantly, connecting with her palm as her fingers close around the cool glass.

 

“Holy shit!” she exclaims. “That was so easy; I didn’t even have to try.”

 

Regina looks around the room for something she can test her skills on. There are candles dotted around the place on various different surfaces, and it has barely occurred to her to try and light them before they are all ablaze, tall flames stretching up towards the ceiling. Emma stares about, eyes wide, and Regina snuffs out the flames again with a thought. Emma is right, this is easy. It’s never been this easy. She has always had to try with magic; it never came easy. She is very very good at it, but that only came through years of sweat and tears and- on occasion- blood as well. But this? This is no effort at all; it’s like second nature.

 

They keep trying new things; Emma making various pieces of furniture levitate, much to Regina’s consternation ( _don’t scratch the floors, Miss. Swan_ ), and then making herself levitate. Regina conjuring up all kinds of foods and books and objects from all over town with no effort at all. Emma turning the table into a jack russell terrier. Regina immediately turning it back. They borrow from each others’ magic, drawing on each others' resources in a way they’ve never been able to do before.

 

When she is around people who have magic, Regina can often sense it in them, especially if they are very powerful, and when she had used magic with Emma in the past, she had felt the other woman’s power. But it was like it hadn’t made sense. The only way she could think to describe it was that it had been as if they were speaking different languages. They could hear each other loud and clear, but there was a lack of understanding; the communication didn’t mean anything. Now, both using light magic together, it is as if they are suddenly on the same wavelength and what had just been noise before is now startlingly clear; they understand exactly what the other means. It’s an inelegant metaphor and doesn’t come close to accurately describing this feeling, but it’s the closest thing Regina can think of. It is a meeting of minds unlike anything she has ever experienced before.

 

They continue experimenting long into the night, but they barely tire, and it’s midnight before Emma notices the time. She leaves reluctantly, Regina walking her to the door where she loiters, unwilling to relinquish this feeling of invincibility and closeness, still flush with possibility and promise. Surely they can do anything together; Zelena is no match for them now. Before Emma leaves, Regina remembers her clothes still hanging by the fire, and she replaces Emma’s outfit with her now dry clothes with a wave of her arm that feels effortless compared to earlier in the day when she had performed the same action.

 

Emma smiles shyly in thanks, and Regina smiles back, leaning against the doorframe as Emma starts down the steps in the direction of home. At the bottom of the steps she turns back to see Regina still watching her, a look of calm settled over her.

 

“Goodnight, Regina.”

 

“Goodnight, Emma.”

 

Emma moves her arm in a flourish that has become second nature over the course of the evening, and vanishes in a swirl of smoke.

 

Now alone, Regina reaches out in her mind experimentally, listening for the sound of Emma’s magic, and finds she can hear it clearly. It’s far away, but unmistakably Emma. She supposes that this is nothing new, it’s just that in the past she just didn’t know what to look for. Now she would recognize Emma’s magic anywhere. And feeling the lingering shadow of their evening’s connection, she feels less alone than she has in a long time.

 

She closes the door and has just started to head up the stairs to bed when a voice stops her in her tracks. Her blood runs cold as she recognizes the speaker immediately.

 

“Hello, sis…”

 

 


	9. Showdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to Regina's abuse by Cora, Rumpel, and Leopold in this chapter.  
> Also a panic attack and descriptions of violence in a fight scene.

Emma’s body slams into the wall, her head making a frightening _crack_ as it snaps back and connects. She drops limply to the ground, the wind knocked out of her, feeling strangely dislocated, disconnected from herself as she struggles to understand where she is, who she is, what is happening to her.

 

Sound is dampened as a shrill ringing in her ears subsumes everything, but somewhere in the distance she can hear someone screaming.

 

She barely has a moment to register the ache throughout her body before it’s overtaken by the roaring of the pain in her head.

 

The screaming continues. Someone is shouting her name. It’s so hard to understand what’s happening. She rolls over on the ground trying to look up and see where that voice is coming from. It’s someone important; she doesn’t know who they are but her name in their mouth sparks panic in her chest and she stares groggily about trying to find them. But the world is spinning and she falls back, nausea overcoming her.

 

How did this happen? This isn’t how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to win...

 

She feels hands grip her body, pulling her close, and everything is spinning again, and then the world goes black.

 

\---

 

Regina had not stuck around for a long reunion with her sister. In the past she might have given in to her feelings of pain and anger, and lashed out at Zelena the moment she saw her. But now her only thought was to get away, to keep herself safe, to protect herself long enough  to get to Emma so that they actually stood a chance of taking this woman down for good. She was playing the long game; she had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

 

But Zelena was fast; no sooner had Regina turned to find the source of the voice, than Zelena had caught her in a vice-like grip, pinning her arms to her sides and lifting her off the ground. Panic flared in Regina’s chest at the familiarity of this powerlessness, and for a moment she forgot where she was as she was is overwhelmed with memories. Zelena disappeared and she saw her mother and Rumpelstiltskin and Leopold filling her consciousness as she struggled to keep her head and to keep breathing. She reached out wildly in her mind, searching for Emma, but the other woman was too far away for Regina to be able to draw on her magic. She couldn’t breathe. Zelena’s grip was firm but it was nothing compared to the crushing weight of these memories, and she gasped, choking, fighting back the panic as she desperately tried to regain control, forcing herself to take slow breaths as Zelena walked menacingly towards her, a triumphant grin on her green face. This was her sister, she repeated like a mantra; not her mother, not her mentor, not her husband. That all happened a long time ago. This was her sister. She could beat her sister.

 

“Sorry it took me so long to call,” Zelena had cooed sarcastically, aware of the past traumas that her magic was calculated to evoke in Regina. “I meant to send flowers, or a casserole. But then I just thought it would be so much better for me to come and give my condolences to my dear sister in person.” She grinned sickeningly. “ _I’m so sorry for your loss_.”

 

Regina closed her eyes and focused on separating her light magic from the dark, trying to ignore the insistent tightening in her chest that was either from the magic or her own fear, or probably both. She pictured Henry’s face. She heard him earnestly telling her he believed in her. She remembered the feeling of the surging power in her veins when she had worked with Emma less than an hour before. Her hands grew hot and the tips of her fingers tingled, a sensation similar to pins and needles when the blood rushes back into numbed limbs, but her arms were still pinned tight as Zelena continued to squeeze. The prickling intensified and developed into a painful throbbing as she focused all her attention on Henry, on magic, on the feeling of loving and being loved.

 

Light burst from her hands and slammed into Zelena, knocking her back across the room where she hit the opposite wall just as Regina hit the floor, free again. Regina didn’t hesitate, the smoke quickly accumulating around her as she propelled herself away before Zelena could react, vanishing as her sister hurled a bolt of green lightning uselessly after her.

 

She had reappeared at Snow and Charming’s apartment, causing Mary Margaret to shriek in surprise, having only just got over the fright of Emma materializing suddenly in the living room minutes earlier. Regina pitched forward, reaching out to brace herself against the wall, still shaken by Zelena’s attack and the exertion of her own magic.

 

“She’s here,” she managed to whisper.

 

Emma was at her side in a moment, reaching out to steady her. “Are you ok? Did she hurt you?”

 

“I’m fine,” Regina replied, struggling to compose herself. “She’s at my house, but she won’t be for long. We need to get moving.”

 

Emma was immediately focused. She was so ready for this; she was was completely in the zone. “Mom, Dad, we need to keep everyone in their houses and off the street. Can you guys handle that?”

 

David nodded, “I’ll coordinate the sheriff's office; call around the town network and pass the word on.”

 

“I’ll call Granny’s and make sure everyone who’s out on the street gets inside,” Mary Margaret offered.

 

Emma noticed that Regina’s hands were trembling, and she took Regina’s arm, gaze earnest, seeking the reassurance of contact. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

Regina wasn’t sure if her shakiness was from the shock, or the emotion, or the sudden exertion of magic, but she waved away Emma’s concern, already feeling more steady and secure in her presence, with the knowledge that her magic was there waiting to be drawn upon. She was ready to be done with her sister.

 

“It’s just the adrenaline; I’m fine. Are you ready to do this?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“Then lets finish this witch.”

 

The plan had been simple. Use their combined light magic to overpower Zelena, and then use the spell that had trapped Sidney Glass first in his lamp, and later in Regina’s mirror, to imprison Zelena in the pendant to which her magic was tethered. It should have worked. It should have been easy.

 

They heard Zelena’s taunting voice drifting up from the street outside, and Emma was halfway out the door before Regina stopped her, performing a quick glamour spell to replace her sweatpants with a black pencil skirt, black boots, and black tailored jacket.

 

“You’re worried about your outfit right now?” Emma stares in disbelief.

 

“I am not going to a showdown with my sister in my pajamas,” the other woman responded firmly.

 

“Well, are you satisfied with your look? Because we’ve got a witch to get rid of!” Emma called back  to her as she hopped down the stairs two at a time.

 

“Intimidation is as much about performance as power, Miss Swan,” Regina called after her. It was also about feeling the part. Zelena had caught her unawares,and her most vulnerable, and for Regina, her appearance was like armor.

 

They exited Mary Margaret and David’s apartment, and saw Zelena waiting for them in front of the clock tower.

 

“Well well, I didn’t expect you to run to the _saviour_ for help, sis. She wasn’t much use last time, was she? Couldn’t save whatshisname- Humphrey? Harry? Hector!”

 

“Henry,” Emma growled.

 

And suddenly Regina managed to put her finger on what had felt off since Emma reached out to steady her. Regina had been focused on her own nervous anticipation, and had sensed that reflected back in the other woman. But it was more than that.

 

She stared at Emma, horrified as she recognized that the magic she sensed was not the magic they had been using from the last few weeks. It was angry and hot and black and nothing compared the the power that was rolling off Zelena. The realization struck her too late to stop Emma, who raised her arms to summon her magic and then stared in confusion at the darkness that came forth. And Zelena realized right after that, as she easily batted away Emma’s attack, and called up her own magic to respond.

 

It had all happened so fast. Zelena’s power had been quick and brutal, and Emma had crumpled like paper. Regina did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed Emma and got them out of there.

 

\---

 

“Emma?”

 

It’s that voice again; softer now, no longer crying out but still with an edge of fear. She feels cool fingers brush the tangle of hair away from her face.

 

“Emma, can you hear me?”

 

Regina. It’s Regina.

 

Emma’s eyes snap open, staring wildly, trying to bring the woman’s face into focus. She becomes slowly aware of Regina’s arm supporting her head, of her weight against the other woman’s body, of the hard floor where she’s lying. She struggles to sit up but the pain stabs through her head and she falls back against Regina.

 

“Wha…” she starts, but it’s hard to form words, her speech is slurred and her mouth feels like cotton.

 

Her parents are next to her in seconds, their hands gripping hers, touching her face, trying to reassure themselves that she is alright, that the broken body they’d watched Regina transport into their apartment wasn’t their dead daughter but just an apparition. Snow clutches Emma to her, barely able to believe that such a horror could have been so blessedly short lived. That Emma was alive.

 

“Give us some space,” Regina murmurs warningly. “I’m trying to heal her.”

 

The Charmings grudgingly oblige, but they hover close by, watching Regina work her magic as David squeezes Mary Margaret’s shoulders comfortingly.

 

“I’m ok,” Emma smiles at them weakly, trying her best to be reassuring because this clearly isn’t over and she needs to know what’s going on. She tries again to make her mouth form the words. “What happened?”

 

“You’re using dark magic,” Regina replies flatly, ignoring the gasps and looks of confused horror from David and Mary Margaret. “We couldn’t work together like that. I managed to hold her off, but I couldn’t beat her. It’s going to take both of us.”

 

Emma tries to piece the fragments of her shattered memory back together. She remembers heading out with Regina to meet Zelena in front of the clocktower. She thinks of the rage that boiled up when she saw that woman’s evil grin; of the heat that sizzled at her fingertips, itching to close around that green neck.

 

Dark magic. Magic born from rage.

 

Zelena’s magic was stronger. She had picked Emma up and tossed her about like a doll, Regina’s light magic slowing her down but not enough, providing little more than a hindrance. Zelena was prepared this time, she knew what she was up against. As it was, it took all of Regina’s efforts to keep herself and Emma safe; and she had to make sure they were both safe, because if one of them died the other would never be able to defeat Zelena alone.

 

“Since when do you use dark magic?” Snow is asking, but Emma doesn’t answer. She’s already feeling defeated. All that work, and in the end it’s been for nothing. Zelena is going to win.

 

There is little that motivates Emma more than her fear of failure; the terror that she will let people down, that she won’t be enough, that she can’t be worthy. And here she is, living out all those failed expectations, and everyone she loves will pay for it. Who will Zelena take first; will it be Neal? Or her parents? Or will it be her? Does Zelena care about making Emma suffer as well as Regina, or will she not even live long enough to know who died and how? The thought is sickening and she can barely breathe with the terror of it, of the repercussions of her careless actions.

 

“I screwed up,” Emma whispers through choked tears. “It’s my fault-”

 

Regina reads the defeat and fear in her face as she works to heal Emma’s broken body, and her voice is gentle but determined as she wills Emma out of this mindset.

 

“You’re just focusing on the wrong things. Remember what we talked about before? About remembering everything that Henry was, everything he stood for, and not what we’ve lost? Henry brought you here to save this town; to bring back the happy endings. But he gave you a happy ending, and me too; he gave us both family. She’s taken our son, but that witch cannot take his legacy. We won’t let her take that.”

 

Emma’s arms and legs feel like lead and her head is pounding. It’s all she can do to stop herself from throwing up. She leans back against Regina as the other woman’s fingertips graze her temples. She can feel the magic thrumming there and her skin starts to cool, the fog in her head slowly clearing, the feeling returning to her limbs. She closes her eyes, breathing deep, focusing on the feeling of Regina’s magic flowing through her, pulling in more, taking what she needs. She thinks about how it felt just an hour ago when she was in Regina’s house, watching a jack russell terrier that used to be a table charging around the living room as she floated in the air and laughed at the other woman’s feigned annoyance. She tries to remember how good it felt, that closeness, that sense of invincibility.

 

Feeling stronger now, she sits up slowly, taking Regina’s arm as she struggles to her feet.

 

“How do you feel? Can you stand?”

 

Emma rolls her head back and forth, and stretches out her back. Everything seems to be in working order. “I think I’m ok.”

 

“Should she be going back out there?” Snow’s voice is full of concern.

 

“She has to,” Regina replies, watching Emma warily with barely masked concern in her own voice.

 

“I’m ok,” Emma says decisively, referring to her mind more than her body. Regina’s magic has stirred something in her and she feels more centered now, her head more clear. She focuses carefully and opens her palm watching the light start to shine there, getting brighter as her confidence grows. She smiles, relieved, and looks up to see her emotions reflected in Regina.

 

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

 

A bellowing voice breaks through her concentration.

 

They are out of time. Leroy is already trumpeting in the streets, whipping the townsfolk into a frenzy as their screams punctuate the green explosions that burst brightly outside the window. There’s no time for debate. She just has to be ready now. She is ready; she’s been working with Regina for weeks. They can do this.

 

“We’ve gotta get those people off the street, _now_.” David is heading for the door, and Mary Margaret is picking up the phone again to try and coordinate the management of the town’s inhabitants.

 

“Ready?” Regina asks Emma softly.

 

“Ready.” She can’t let Regina down. If she fails again, Zelena will kill everyone she cares about, and all Henry’s heroism would have been for nothing. She has to believe in herself.

 

“Emma? Regina?” They pause at Snow’s call. “Be careful. And give her hell.”

 

\---

 

Back out on the street Zelena laughs in their faces as she sees them coming towards her.

 

“Back for round two? I don’t know if that’s brave or just plain stupid. But it’s your funeral.”

 

“Nope. It’s yours,” Emma corrects her, and there’s a smile pulling at the corner of her lips in spite of the danger they are walking into because she feels different this time, and as she reaches out to brush her fingers against Regina’s she feels their connection clearly. They are on the same page again; this is how it should be. Zelena cannot beat them. They are going to win.

 

“If you say so, love,” Zelena sneers, and hurls a bolt of green at them too fast for Emma to  react.

 

Not not too fast for Regina, though. She draws on Emma’s power and deflects Zelena’s attack easily.

 

The evil witch cocks her head, interested in this new development. “Well now… what’s going on here?”

 

She seizes Regina, pinning her arms and lifting her up with one hand while she swats at Emma with the other, but Regina easily breaks free of those awful restraints and Emma braces herself before she’s thrown into a wall, absorbing the force of Zelena’s blow and landing easily on her feet. They continue to advance, circling the witch, Emma smiling as she sees the look of glee that passes over Regina’s face, as Zelena’s is becoming a mask of confusion.

 

“What have you done?” There’s no mistaking the edge of fear in Zelena’s voice.

 

“Worried, sis?” Regina hisses back, smirking.

 

Zelena lashes out at her but Emma easily catches the spell and binds it to Zelena. The connection between Regina and Emma is something close to telepathy now; though they can’t hear each others’ thoughts, their intention is crystal clear. It’s there in their magic in the seconds before their spells actualize. It’s in their anticipation of Zelena’s actions. It’s in their awareness of each others’ behaviours and habits and personalities and emotions. They sense what the other is going to do right before they do it, and fully commit their magic to the cause. Zelena doesn’t stand a chance. Even if she had half their magic, they know each other too well, and she doesn’t know them at all.

 

“You can’t kill me!” she is shrieking wildly, her magic all but exhausted as she is increasingly bound by Emma and Regina’s spell. “I’m invincible!”

 

“We don’t need to kill you,” Emma replies calmly. “We just need to put you in a prison that can actually hold you.”

 

Zelena understands her meaning too late; she is hit by a blast of white light from both sides as Regina and Emma pour all their energy into binding Zelena, making her smaller, overpowering her until they can’t see her at all; there’s only the blinding light of their magic and her high pitched scream.

 

Regina and Emma relax and the light disappears, the street dark once more. Zelena is gone. The silence is broken by the trill of metal hitting the ground; her pendant, dull and blackened now. This is all that remains of her. Regina picks it up, examining it for signs of life.

 

“Did it work?” Emma is at her side, peering at the pendant.

 

“I think so,” Regina nods decisively.

 

“So… what do we do with it now?”

 

“Keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere no one else can get to it.”

 

She’s about to ask where exactly Regina means, when a shriek of _Emma!_ pierces the air, and her mother is hurtling towards her, crashing into her arms with David hot on her heals. And suddenly the streets are full as the town’s inhabitants pour from their various hiding places, whooping and cheering and clapping Emma enthusiastically on the back. She strains to keep track of Regina, but the woman has melted away into the night. She stares around distractedly, but everyone is pulling at her and demanding her attention. She reaches out in her mind, fumbling about uncertainly because she doesn’t really know how to do this, but she knows she should be able to tell if Regina is there. She’s not. She hasn’t gone far though, there’s the faint sense of her still lingering, and it temporarily reassures Emma enough to allow her parents to pull her towards Granny’s where a crowd is gathering, beer is flowing, and people are congratulating each other loudly.

 

\---

 

It’s an hour later when Regina reappears. No one notices her come into the diner right away; the alcohol is flowing freely as Granny is in a generous mood following the vanquishing of the town’s latest villain. The noise of the chatter inside is loud enough to drown out the sound of the bell tinkling as Regina enters, but Emma senses she’s there right away and her head snaps up from where she sits with Mary Margaret and David. They notice Emma’s sudden call to attention and look over to see Regina lingering in the doorway uncertainly.

 

“There she is!” David proclaims, getting to his feet.

 

All eyes turn to Regina, and a roaring cheer goes up in the diner as several patrons get to their feet in applause. Emma smiles as Regina looks about in complete bewilderment, allowing David to take her arm and guide her to a seat. Ruby sets a drink in front of her with a big smile and the assurance that heroes drink for free. Mary Margaret is beaming at her former stepmother as she settles at the table, giving uncertain smiles to those who are brave enough to hurry over and shake her hand, or just offer a tip of their cap, or a little bow (old habits die hard).

 

“Everyone knows you’re a hero now,” Mary Margaret tells her proudly.

 

“She’s been a hero for a long time,” Emma corrects her, resisting the urge to reach out to Regina.

 

The connection still lingers between them, but it’s faint and it’s hard not to want it back, especially when emotions are running high and the town is reaching a relief-driven 2am fever-pitch in this compact space. And Regina looks so overwhelmed and uncomfortable, sitting stiffly as her hands grip her seat. Robin and Marian are here, Emma notes nervously. She reaches out under the table and lets her fingers graze Regina’s knuckles lightly. The other woman looks up at her quickly.

 

“You ok?” Emma murmurs.

 

Regina nods. “Just tired. That was… a lot. I think I might just… head home.”

 

“That sounds like a great idea,” Emma replies, relieved. Her headache is starting to come back and it seems like a good idea to maybe take it easy after having been half broken open in a witch fight, regardless of Regina’s healing contributions.

 

“We were just going to head out too,” Mary Margaret agrees. “I don’t know how Neal is sleeping through all this.”

 

David peers into the bassinet at the sleeping boy. “I swear as soon as we get out into the quiet, he’ll wake up again. This must be like white noise to him.”

 

They start gathering their baby supplies together; stroller, diaper bag, secondary bag of toys and blankets, bassinet, and Emma realizes it’s going to be nothing less than a huge scene if they try to follow her parents out as they negotiate the tightly packed crowd with all their baggage.

 

“Maybe we should just sneak out the back?” she suggests, and the look on Regina’s face tells her this is a very good idea, so she kisses her parents goodbye and they slip through the crowd towards the back door and out into the quiet of the night.

 

No one notices them go, everyone caught up in the celebrations and sheer relief. Almost no one. Hook watches Emma disappearing with Regina _again_ , and sighs thinking that maybe, this time, he had met his match. Maybe he really had lost Emma Swan. Maybe he never had her in the first place.

 

He settles down to commiserate with his beer, but there’s a little voice in his ear that says, “ _Don’t give up. She could still be yours_.”

 

The voice isn’t in his imagination. Tinkerbell slips into the booth next to him, glowering in the direction in which Emma has just disappeared with Regina; away from Robin Hood, who now sits with his _wife_ , who was supposed to be _dead_. All because Emma brought her back and reunited them. None of this is going as it is supposed to. Emma is screwing with destiny, and Tink had given everything to ensure that Regina would have a chance to love again. She isn’t going to let Emma screw that up. This is fate. This is soulmates. _True love_.

 

Tink takes a long gulp of her beer as she watches Robin with Marian. They seem awkward with each other; trying to become accustomed to each other after years of separation.

  
Regina wouldn’t listen to her now, that much was certain; her defenses went way up when she was hurt and afraid. But maybe Robin could be persuaded...


	10. Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some talk of the dead and graves in this one.

A week drifts by, days blurring into one another with no shape or direction. Everything looks the same but Emma feels like she’s living in the twilight zone where nothing is right and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Except she does- not how to _fix it_ , exactly, but how to maybe start to make sense of how she’s feeling. She has to visit Henry’s grave.

 

The knowledge that this is something she would have to do has been weighing on Emma since she first avoided the funeral. It makes it too real. In the day to day, Henry just isn’t around, and she knows why and that knowledge sits heavily on her shoulders, and she aches with missing him and wanting to see him. But he is an absence. Going to the cemetery… it’s an entirely different thing. It involves clearly connecting Henry with death, not just absence. A graveyard is not somewhere he should be. But he is; his body has been there for almost three weeks now. His _body_ … the thought makes Emma’s stomach twist and she closes her eyes, taking slow breaths until she feels like she probably won’t throw up.

 

She doesn’t go to Regina’s house with the _intention_ of asking her if she wants to go to the graveyard together, but it seems inevitable. She doesn’t want to go alone, and she can’t go with her parents. She knows they would if she asked them; they won’t hesitate. But then she’d be thinking the whole time about having to be strong, or what they were thinking of her, or if they were waiting for her to cry… She knows they don’t need her to perform, but there’s something about her parents that makes her feel like she has to. She supposes that’s a good thing, in its own way. It means she really does think of them as her parents now, and what kid is ever fully honest with their parents? There’s so much expectation and hope and well-meaning on one side, and so much desire not to disappoint on the other.

 

She doesn’t have to deal with that with Regina. If nothing else, their feelings have always been right there on the surface; never bothering to hide their disdain, or their anger, or their jealousy, or their pain. They had seen the worst of each other early on; it makes it easier to be less guarded now. Even so, Emma wonders if they would have got to this place if she hadn’t seen Regina at the park the morning after Henry’s death. There was a moment there, where they could have put up their defenses. When Regina asked her if she wanted to stay for coffee, and she had been about to leave. What if she’d left? Aside from it being likely that they would never have been able to defeat Zelena without coming to this place of understanding, Emma isn’t sure if she could even have survived the last few weeks. She probably would have left town, at least for a while. Definitely after Zelena was vanquished, she would have taken some time by herself to deal with things, or not deal with them as the case may be.

 

But with Regina here she has someone she doesn’t have to pretend with, and in the week since Zelena had been imprisoned for good, she has gravitated towards the mayor again and again. She was uncertain at first; without a mission, without magic lessons, without a reason to see Regina, was it weird to spend time with her? Were they friends now? But between their shared memories and their mirrored emotional journey as they negotiated life without Henry, it seemed impossible not to see each other.

 

So when she wakes up on Saturday morning and decides that yes, today is the day she has to go to Henry’s grave, her first thought is to go to Regina.

 

She finds the other woman sitting alone in her kitchen with a cup of coffee, daily paper unopened on the counter, staring out the window at apple tree, catching the light of the brightening fall day.

 

“Hey,” Emma says quietly, trying not to startle the other woman out of her reverie.

 

“Emma,” Regina looks both pleased and unsurprised to see her, and moves to offer a mug so the other woman can share her pot of coffee.

 

“Thanks,” Emma smiles, taking a seat opposite her.

 

“It’s a beautiful day,” Regina looks out the window wistfully, thinking of fall days with Henry that used to be spent getting the garden in order, picking fruit, planting bulbs ready for the spring.

 

Emma nods. “Bluebird skies. Not too cold.” She takes a slow sip from her mug. Regina always has the best coffee. And the best way of making it. She has three or four intricate-looking coffee makers, all purporting to create the best cuppa joe. She’s never seen the vacuum press in action, but she hopes to someday; it looks like something out of a science experiment.

 

Regina watches her take a slow sip of coffee. Emma is avoiding her eyes so she knows there is something on her mind. She hazards a glance every so often but looks back to her coffee when she sees Regina’s eyes on her, and her leg bounces on the ball of her foot, tapping nervously.

 

“What is it, Emma?” she knows she can push a little. Sometimes Emma needs it; counts on Regina not to let things slide. She watches the other woman take a steadying breath.

 

“I um… Have you… been to visit Henry’s grave?”

 

Regina tenses immediately, seeing the motivation behind Emma’s visit and the trajectory of the conversation in an instant, and beginning to mount defenses on instinct. She does not want to go to Henry’s grave. She feels sick.

 

Emma sees the other woman’s response and quickly tries to reframe in a way that will make Regina feel less put on the spot.

 

“I haven’t yet. I thought I would try and go today. I don’t want to, but I feel like I should. Like it might be… helpful. For dealing with things. I don’t really know what I’m doing, now Zelena’s gone. I feel sort of… adrift. Like I’m waiting for things to go back to normal, but they won’t. And I guess I just need to get to grips with that. I’d rather not go alone, so I thought, if you wanted to, maybe we could go together. But we don’t have to, if you’d rather not. Just… if you wanted to, we could.”

 

Regina stares at her coffee, arms wrapped around herself protectively, trying to quell the panic and steady the pace of her heart, now beating at her ribs like it might burst from her chest. She isn’t prepared for this conversation. She isn’t ready to have to face this. But she doesn’t want to go alone either. If she waits, if she doesn’t go with Emma now, she’ll just have to face it by herself at a later date. There’s no one else she would go with. She’s been laid bare before Emma enough times now; they’ve shared memories, they’ve cried and held each other, raw and exposed. And while there was always a moment of retreat, of reassembling, of composure and perhaps embarrassment as the moment of emotional intensity passed, it left behind a path into her heart, like breaking trail through a tightly knit forrest. Once she has let someone in, it’s easier for them to come back again.

 

“Alright, I’ll go with you,” she says finally, and Emma’s face floods with relief.

 

They pick flowers from Regina’s garden; the last blooms before the incoming winter frost. The apple tree is heaving with its fall harvest, and Regina picks a large ruby fruit to leave with the flowers, noting that Henry had always loved apples before he’d found the Storybook and figured out who she really was.

 

“He used to climb this tree to help me pick the high ones in the fall; I’d tell him to stick to the lower branches but he never listened. When he was seven he slipped and fell; broke his wrist. I’ve never been so scared.”

 

“That’s how he broke his wrist?” Emma replies. “I remember him falling off a skateboard.”

 

Regina snorts. “Henry’s never set foot on a skateboard in his life.”

 

Emma shrugs, smiling. “I guess that’s why it seemed believable. He sure never set foot on one again.”

 

But as they drive towards the cemetery they grow quiet, the nervous anticipation building, Emma starting to feel like she might jump out of her skin, Regina’s arms folded tightly across her chest. They can still turn back. They don’t have to do this today. But if not today, when? Tomorrow? The day after that? It would become an increasingly insurmountable task the longer they put it off. Still, they linger in the car long after Emma switches off the engine, looking out towards the old moss-covered stones stretching out from the earth.

 

Suddenly a thought occurs to Emma; she doesn't even know where Henry is buried. In her desire to not deal with his death, to not admit to it or address it, she had completely cut herself off from the funeral arrangements. She had assumed that Mary Margaret and David had seen to it, but she’s not sure.

 

“Do you know where he’s buried?” she asks Regina, shame-faced. “Is he next to his father?”

 

“There’ll be a marker there, I believe,” Regina replies. “But his body-” her stomach turns at the thought- “He will have been interred in my mausoleum.”

 

Emma stares at her, horrified. “He’s in your vault?”

 

“It’s where all my family were laid to rest,” Regina explains defensively. “There were long-standing instructions for the burial of any members of the royal family.”

 

“So is he, like, preserved?” Emma doesn’t want to hear the answer.

 

“No of course not!” Regina snaps, looking sick. “That was only Daniel.”

The conversation is almost too macabre to countenance. The fact that they can even have a discussion about which of her loved ones’ dead bodies had been kept in suspended animation is horrifying. Emma is looking completely overwhelmed, and like she might gun the engine and get them out of there at any moment. Regina puts her head in her hands, trying to will this awful situation away.

 

Finally Emma reaches out to carefully touch the distraught woman’s shoulder. “Regina, I’m sorry. Let’s just… Let’s just do this.”

 

They slowly make their way through the gravestones towards where Neal is buried. Fresh flowers have been left there recently; perhaps by Belle and Rumpel, Emma thinks. A small plain engraved stone stands beside it.

 

The dates make it worse. Emma hadn’t thought anything could, but they do. _2001-2014_. So young. Almost every other gravestone she’s ever seen has a bigger gap than this; sometimes they span centuries. But these dates make it too easy to do the math. So very young. He was here no time at all.

 

She doesn’t even notice the name at first; she’s so caught up with the dates, and when she does read it she has to go back and check over and over, unable to believe her eyes.

 

_Henry Swan-Mills._

 

She stares at Regina, looking for an explanation, but the other woman looks as taken aback as she.

 

“Snow?” Regina asks finally.

 

“Must be…” Emma is shaking her head; she had no hand in the funeral arrangements herself.

 

“Is it… ok?” Regina asks hesitantly.

 

Emma nods. “It seems... right.” Henry had been Henry Swan for the last thirteen years, as far as her false memories were concerned. But in this town he had always been Henry Mills.

 

The sight of his name on a grave is the thing Emma has been dreading most of all, but now, like this, it feels ok. It is as if Henry had become in death what he should have been in life. He is fully _their_ son, and everyone knows it. She kneels next to Regina to lay the flowers, carefully arranging them around the stone. Regina sits the apple on top. Emma slips her arm through Regina’s and they kneel there together for a long time.

 

Somewhere behind them, keen eyes watch from the trees. Tinkerbell glowers thunderously. It should be Robin who’s here comforting Regina, and Hook with Emma. This is all wrong. Whatever this ‘thing’ is with Regina and Emma, it can’t last. Regina has a soulmate and it’s not the saviour. This can only end in tears. And she knows exactly what happens what Regina gets her heart broken. Time to make sure this budding… whatever-this-is, is nipped in the bud.

 

She steals off into the forest, in the direction of the Merry Men’s camp.

 

\---

 

Tinkerbell has shown little interest in the Lost Boys since they moved here from Neverland. She and Pan hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms, and the boys under his leadership had often been cruel and repellant. She has little interest in their well-being and adaptation to life in Storybrooke. But she knows that, since the arrival of Robin Hood, the leaderless gang has been somewhat integrated into the Merry Men, and now she heads to their camp under the pretense of “checking in” on the boys.

 

She finds Robin making some repairs to his tent, and, blessedly, alone: Marian and Roland no where in sight.

 

“Hello there!” she calls with a bright smile.

 

“Tinkerbell!” he smiles back, rising to greet her with a little bow of his head. So chivalrous. “To what do I owe this honour?”

 

“Oh you know, just thought I’d swing by and see how you were doing with all your new recruits. I know those boys can be something of a handful.”

 

Robin laughs. “That they can, but at least out in the forest there’s a limit to the amount of mayhem and destruction they can cause. A few broken branches are better than a crashed car or a raided convenience store.”

 

“I thought the Merry Men were a band of thieves?” Tinkerbell teases.

 

“Robbing from the rich to feed the poor! Not from the honest, hardworking townsfolk.”

 

“Yes, I suppose there aren’t too many rich folks around here these days. Unless you count Regina in that massive house.”

 

She catches a look of awkwardness, embarrassment, and hurt that flickers across his face at the mention of Regina’s name, and feigns apology.

 

“Oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to reopen fresh wounds!”

 

“No, it’s alright. It’s just, a lot has changed so quickly. It’s taking some getting used to.”

 

“Of course.” She give him her most sympathetic look. “How is having Marian back?”

 

“It’s wonderful!” he begins, but he has a terrible poker face. Tinkerbell just waits patiently for him to crack. “It’s difficult. I haven’t seen her for five years, but for her, it’s as if barely a day has passed. And I’ve changed so much in that time… It’s just taking a little while to find our feet. We have to get to know each other again.”

 

Tink smiles. “And that can’t be easy as it is, but when you know that another woman is your soulmate…”

 

He stares at her, wide-eyed. “Regina told you about that?”

 

“I was the one who used the pixie dust to cast the spell! I was there when she first saw you. It’s really amazing that after all this time, you found each other again! I mean, not that you’re going to be together now, obviously; you have a wife. But still… You and Regina didn’t meet for more than thirty years after I cast that spell! And yet, you still managed to find your way back to each other. If you can manage that, I’m sure you and Marian can overcome five years of separation, if that’s what you want. Should be a piece of cake. Though, if it isn’t, you know it’s not your fault. No one would blame you. The stars are aligned against you; you were always meant to be with someone else.”

 

Robin stares at her in confusion, conflict written all over his face.

 

“Well, I’d better go see where those Lost Boys have got to!” she finishes brightly, pretending not to notice Robin’s inner turmoil. “I really hope you get your happy ending, Robin. Whoever that’s with.”

 

Phase one: complete.

 

\---

 

Rumpelstiltskin appears at the door in a flash at the ringing of the bell, and visibly crumples in disappointment when he sees it’s Tink, and not Belle.

 

“Expecting someone else?” she taunts.

 

“No,” he narrows his eyes. “Just providing good customer service. What can I do for you?”

 

“I need a favour.”

 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. I don’t do favours, I do business.”

 

“Alright, then let’s do business.”

 

“What is it that you want?”

 

“A storm. A big, torrential downpour that will flood the forest.”

 

“What for?”

 

“You don’t need to worry about what for. Can you do it?”

 

“Of course I can. But why should I? What will you give me in return?”

 

“How about… your wife back?”

 

Rumpel’s face clouds darkly. “My wife hasn’t gone anywhere.”

 

“Oh, but she has, hasn’t she? She’s been staying at Granny’s for the past week.”

 

All social niceties have gone out the window, and the two of them circle each other warily.

 

“And what exactly do you suppose you can do about that?” he asks finally, overcome with curiosity.

 

“Cast the storm spell, and I’ll have Belle back here by the end of the week.”

 

“Get Belle to come back, and I’ll cast the spell.”

 

Tink narrows her eyes, sizing up the situation. “I have your word?”

 

“Oh yes, I never renege on a deal.”

 

“Then get that spell ready. She’ll be home tonight!”

 

Phase two: in motion.

 

\---

 

This has stepped up the schedule somewhat, but Tink is pretty sure she can handle it. She works best under pressure, right? Well, maybe not, but she’s grown a lot since she was that naive little fairly trying to give a desperate queen a second chance at love. She has a lot more grit and determination now, and she learned a thing or two about manipulation in the bad years that followed losing her wings. She had to get by somehow.

 

First item on the agenda: find Belle. It’s lunchtime so she probably isn’t at the library, she would probably be at the same place everyone goes during their breaks: Granny’s. And this is perfect because phase three is going to involve dealing with both Belle _and_ Ruby. Two birds, one stone.

 

She finds Belle bent over a book, sitting in the back of the diner, while Ruby busily buses plates from the ebbing lunch rush. The place is just starting to clear out as Ruby takes two bowls of soup over to the table. It looks like Belle has taken a late lunch on purpose, so Ruby would have time to chat.

 

Tink sits at the bar and pretends to peruse a menu while listening in, discretely.

 

“It’s so hard, but I know what I have to do,” Bell is lamenting. “I’ve forgiven him so many times, and he always swears he’ll change. But then he breaks my trust again. I love him, but at some point isn’t enough just enough? I’m tired of being made to look a fool.”

 

Ruby takes her hand and squeezes it affectionately. “It’s time to call it quits; for your own mental health as much as anything. I know you love him, but it’s not up to you to save him; he has to meet you half way, and he hasn’t even come close. At least by moving out to this new apartment you’ll have a chance to take some time away from him, to figure out what you want. And it’ll be so great to be roommates!”

 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing…” Tink carefully inserts herself into their conversation, earning her a disgruntled look from Ruby. “You’ve having some marital problems?”

 

“This is actually a private conversation,” Ruby informs her tersely.

 

Tink smiles apologetically. “I do apologise, I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just that, true love is something of a speciality of mine, and if you’re wondering whether Rumpelstiltskin is really worth all the trouble, well I think I can help.”

 

“What do you mean?” Belle is curious.

 

“There’s a spell I can do with pixie dust. It will tell you who your soulmate is. If it’s Rumpel, maybe your marriage is worth fighting for. But if it’s not… Might make it easier to cut ties and move on.”

 

Ruby frowns. “If it’s so easy to find your soulmate, why doesn’t everyone do it? Just use magic and cut out all those years of heartache wasted on the wrong person?”

 

“Because pixie dust is very rare. It’s a spell I’ve only done once before, but I can do it again; I have a little stash of pixie dust left.”

 

Belle, for all her sweetness and naivety, is suspicious. “Why would you use it to help me, if it’s so rare? What do you want in return?”

 

“Just the pleasure of seeing true love win,” Tink explains beneficently. Ruby and Belle exchange a look of skepticism, so she continues, “Look, I said I cast this spell once before, and it worked, and those two people found each other. But they were scared; or one of them was anyway. She wouldn’t take a chance on love again. I lost my wings because of it. If there’s one thing I’d love to see, it’s for true love to win out. To feel like my sacrifice was worth it.”

 

“Who were the people you tried to help before?” Ruby asks, still frowning.

 

Tink looks around theatrically, feigning nervousness. “I really can’t say.”

 

“Right,” Ruby snorts derisively. “That’s convenient.”

 

“No really, I’d tell you if I could, but it’s a… delicate situation,” she spies Marian sitting alone at the other end of the diner and nods in her direction.

 

Ruby and Belle crane their necks to see who Tink is pointing at. “Robin and Marian?”

 

“No… not Robin and _Marian_.”

 

“Robin and…” Belle’s eyes go wide. “Regina!”

 

Ruby stares around at the lone figure of Marian, who suddenly appears so much more forlorn with this new information.

 

“Oh how awful! No wonder Marian looks so depressed. And Robin is still trying to make it work with her, even though he knows his destiny’s with someone else?” Belle looks crushed at the thought.

 

Tink nods sagely. “If only Regina had listened when I cast the spell. She and Robin could have been happy, and Marian would never have got mixed up in this.”

 

Belle focuses back on Tink. “So you can cast this spell, and then, what? I’ll just know if Rumpel’s my soulmate?”

 

“Pretty much,” Tink confirms. She pulls a vial of pixie-ish-looking dust from her pocket, which she had conjured up on her way over. Completely inert with no magical properties at all, but it sparkles convincingly enough to make Belle gasp. “I just cast the spell, and the pixie dust will lead you to your soulmate.”

 

Belle gives Ruby a worried look, caught with indecision. “What if it isn’t him?”

 

“Then at least you’ll know. And you and I will have an awesome apartment and we’ll hang out in our pajamas all weekend and drink margaritas and bitch about boys.”

 

Belle looks even more pained. “And what if it is? You just signed that lease; I know you can’t afford that place alone.”

 

“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Worst case scenario, I break the lease, lose my deposit, and have to stay here with my grandmother.” She wrinkles her nose at the thought.

 

“Oh no! I’ll pay your deposit if it comes to that! I can’t let you lose your savings because of me!”

 

This is growing tedious, Tinkerbelle thinks. “How about we just do the spell first, before you start making contingency plans?”

 

Belle nervously agrees, and watches as Tink concentrates very hard, muttering some made up spell, and then blows the fake pixie dust into the air. It swirls dramatically, enacting the only truly magical part of this process; a bit of theatrics that makes the charmed dust flow towards Rumpelstiltskin. Belle jumps up as the dust starts heading towards the door, hurrying after it anxiously. Ruby follows, standing out on the street to watch Belle running after the sparkling thread as it winds its way speedily to Gold’s shop… and disappears inside. Belle stands in front of the door, unsure of what to do. She looks back at Ruby, who gives her a sad smile and nods encouragingly. Belle goes inside.

 

Tink grins to herself as she leaves, watching Ruby head dejectedly back inside, where she takes a seat with a lonely Marian. Misery loves company, Tink smiles to herself, wondering how long it will take for Ruby to accidently drop that bit of information to Marian about Robin being Regina’s soulmate. Not long at all, she’d guess.

  
Phase three: complete.


	11. The New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient, folks! I split this chapter in half as it was getting too long, so the next chapter will follow soon!

Regina hates Mondays. Of course, most people do; beginning of the work week, still so many days ahead of you and so much potential for all kinds of crap to pile up. That never bothered her though; she was always happy to work hard. She has always been disciplined; partly that’s her mother’s training, partly it’s her own drive. She would never have called herself ambitious, but she has never lacked passion, and she channels it into everything she does. As a teenager, that had been riding. As an adult, it had been vengeance. These days, it means running the town, and god knows it takes some dedication to corral these idiots into some kind of order.

 

So it’s not the idea of working a new week of nine to fives that phases her. What she struggles with is being alone. Going back to that big empty house too easily recalls the endless days in King Leopold’s castle; a place that wasn’t her home, where she didn’t belong, where she had nothing to do and no one cared for her. There were no horses for her to ride. Even the King was away most of the time. And the worst part of it was that, despite how desperately relieved she was when he was gone and she knew she was safe from him for a while, she was still miserable because she was so lonely. Not enough to wish for him to come back; never enough for that. But it was such a stark reminder of how unimportant she was, of how she mattered to no one. The whole castle shut down when he was away. It didn’t matter that the Queen was still in residence. No one cared about the Queen.

 

So she throws herself into her work, and she keeps everything in order, and she deals with complaints, and arbitrates disagreements, and allocates funding, and signs work orders, and contracts developers, and maintains and repairs and preserves and improves and does everything that any of her constituents could possibly ask for (though they always demand more). And then at five she packs up her desk, leaves her office, and goes… where? Where would she go? Not to school to meet Henry. Not out on a dinner date. Just an evening of reheated leftovers; a depressing meal for one. There’s no one in this house who’s waiting for her after work.

 

The weekends are different; she can fill the time with riding, or gardening, or cleaning. She can go into the town and know that she’ll bump into ten different people on the street, and most of them don’t even hate her any more. But on a weekday evening, people aren’t out and about. They’re heading home to their families, to talk about their days with wives and husbands and children, to ask how school was, to marvel at the As on a report card or the finger painting that will be pinned to the refrigerator. While she faces a whole new week of coming home to that big old empty house.

 

Until Zelena was finally vanquished, her evenings had been busy; Emma came over most every night, and as frustrating as it often was--with her impulsiveness and brashness and pig-headedness--it was nice to know that someone cared that she existed in the world. Even if it was only as one half of a magic duo that was supposed to save the town. Still, Emma had stopped by a few times since then; they’d gone to visit Henry’s grave, and she came over with paperwork and updates from the sheriff's office, and Regina wonders whether those visits are entirely necessary, or whether Emma might just be checking up on her, or perhaps just wants to see her. The motivation doesn’t really matter; Emma’s presence is… comforting.

 

So she finds herself on Monday night, driving into town towards Snow and Charming’s apartment, not really sure why she’s going, not sure what reason she is going to give until she’s standing in front of the door knocking, and then freezing in panic because this is ridiculous- she doesn’t belong here. The last few weeks have been like living in a dream world, but at some point, reality is going to hit home. She and Emma had put their differences aside for the greater good, to defeat Zelena, and because in their loneliness and grief they had grabbed on to what was familiar and comforting. But always in the background, being carefully ignored, were the years of unresolved tension and hurt and guilt and betrayal. So many things they didn’t talk about because they needed each other. But with the immediate danger now passed, and some sort of normality settling in, it’s only a matter of time before their histories begin to reassert themselves. Before they actually have to address all the things they have done to each other over the years. And that’s just Emma; her parents are a whole different matter. Her parents whose door Regina is now knocking on, having driven over uninvited because of some sort of bizarre and unchecked compulsion to be near their daughter. What is she even doing here? What is she going to say?

 

But when Emma opens the door and sees Regina waiting uncomfortably outside, her face breaks into a huge grin like Regina is exactly the person she was hoping for, and she’s ushered inside, and Mary Margaret and David look over from the living room where they’re curled up with Neal on the sofa, and they sing their hellos like they don’t think it’s weird she’s here either. And Regina wants to believe that’s true, but she’s known them both too long, and Snow’s unnervingly forceful smile speaks volumes about how aware she is that she has never asked for-- or given-- forgiveness. And David’s the same, just a little calmer about it; quietly accepting Regina’s new place in their lives without addressing why she wasn’t there before and why she is now. And Regina can’t live like that; after all the years of yelling and blame and self-righteous indignation, it can’t all just be swept under the carpet now and never mentioned again because it’s inconvenient and awkward to have to admit to your own mistakes. Regina has done terrible things, but she’s always owned that. And she’s apologized for her actions, over and over and over. But now the room feels so full of all the things that aren’t being said that she can hardly breathe from it; it was a mistake to have come here.

 

Emma sees the conflict on Regina’s face and gives her arm a squeeze, mouthing, _You ok?_ out of range of her parents. And as Regina looks at her hopeful face, she can’t help but start to relax, the anxiety that’s gripped her since she started counting down to end-of-day slowly slipping out of her, and her hands tremble and she realizes how tightly wound she’d held herself until this moment. And she smiles back and nods because no, she isn’t ok, but Emma doesn’t need to know that right now. Because as long as Emma doesn’t feel the doubts that currently fill Regina’s mind, maybe they don’t have to give up this temporary fantasy.

 

The Charmings are planning on heading to Granny’s for dinner, and they invite Regina to join them, and when she protests about interrupting a family night, David just gives her a teasing grin and tells her she is family, whether she likes it or not. And she wishes that were true, but she knows how fickle the Charmings’ offerings of olive branches can be, and how easily broken are the truces they’ve made, so she doesn’t say anything, just lets Emma slip an arm around her own as they stroll through the twilight towards the diner. David and Mary Margaret walk ahead of them, also arm in arm, pushing the stroller and sighing over the size of the moon, and Emma nudges Regina conspiratorially, rolling her eyes at the saccharine display.

 

She doesn’t remember when Emma got to be so physically expressive; she wasn’t always this way. Emma used to be prickly and wary, preferring to keep everyone at arms length so she could size up the situation. Regina had been that way too. They had parallel default positions that were defensive and guarded; Regina’s hands clasped firmly in front of her, fiddling nervously with her ring, while Emma’s hands were buried in her back pockets or shoved deep into her jacket. The only person they had even been free and open with was Henry. But now Emma never hesitates to reach out to Regina, and when they walk together they are more likely to be linked than not. Maybe it’s just that Emma is more settled now and has accepted her relationship with her parents. Maybe she’s just starting to finally open up, and because of their magic and their loss and their fight with Zelena, Regina is part of that more general embracing of the people in her life. But that doesn’t explain why Regina’s heart races the way it does when Emma pulls her close. And why this feeling of dread follows so closely behind it, because this cannot last; it never does.

 

And just as she’s starting to feel like making up an excuse and bolting, Emma whispers to her, “Guess how many times I’ve walked in on Mary Margaret pumping in the last week?”

 

Regina stares at her with a mixture of confusion and horror as a powerful visual comes to mind. But Emma only sees the confusion so she clarifies, “You know, like a breast pump? One of those machines that like, sucks the milk out? You can freeze it so if you go out for the evening and the kid needs a feed, or if you go back to work the kid can still get fed the natural stuff. Not that Mary Margaret is going back to work any time soon. But I swear she’s pumping all the time! I’ve walked in on her three times already. I’m scarred for life. I mean, it’s all totally natural and wonderful and part of motherhood and everything, but she’s my mom! And my best friend. And I do not need to see her breasts hooked up to… that contraption--”

 

“Emma you really need your own place,” Regina cuts her off, trying to expel from her mind the excessive insight she just received into the life and times of Mary Margaret Blanchard.

 

“I do,” Emma nods vigorously. “I really do. I mean, I did the whole pregnancy and birth thing, and even if I didn’t do the infant-raising part myself, I’m very familiar with all the bodily ins and outs of the whole process. And honestly, if I were in my mother’s position, I’d probably appreciate a little privacy.”

 

“Well there’s no such thing as personal space in that apartment. It barely even has walls.”

 

“I know! And I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, especially not in her own home. But I just keep walking in on her!”

 

“So move out,” Regina cocks an eyebrow challengingly. Emma has been talking about moving out for weeks, and yet seems unwilling to leave the nest.

 

“I know, I really want to,” Emma whines. “But the rental market in this town is so bad!”

 

“It’s a small town; not a lot of newcomers. It’s an owner’s market.”

 

“Yeah, I figured. Henry was looking at places before…” they avoid each others’ gaze. “Well, anyway he found a couple places, but he was looking for two bedrooms, and I don’t need a two bedroom now…”

 

Regina nods. Yet another thing that doesn’t work without Henry. “There aren’t a lot of one-bedroom places. Mary Margaret’s building is one of the only places in town, and vacancies don’t come up often; people don’t really… leave.”

 

“You couldn’t have created a town that was a bit more… metropolitan?”

 

“We come from the Enchanted Forest; land of nuclear families and no birth control. There weren’t too many single individuals to start off with.”

 

“Well Mary Margaret wasn’t single before she came here,” Emma digs at her, earning her an eye-roll.

 

“And a bachelor apartment hasn’t stopped her from offering a bed to any old waif or stray who comes through the town.”

 

“Hey!” Emma cries, feigning affront.

 

Regina smiles at her teasing, and Emma realizes she hasn’t seen the other woman smile like that in a very long time; the kind that goes right to her eyes; the kind that was only ever given to Henry. And it takes her breath away for a moment, so she blushes and stammers, grateful that they’re at the diner already so she can hold open the door for Regina and take a second to get herself together and hide the fact that she just got so completely tongue-tied over a smile from this woman.

 

Inside, Granny’s is already bustling from the dinner rush as they slip into their usual booth.

 

“You ok, Emma?” her father inquires, noting how his daughter looks flushed and a little discombobulated. He earns a overly enthusiastic grin for his troubles.

 

“Fine! I’m great!” She tries not to think about how closely the booth packs them together, how Regina’s thigh brushes against her own as they get settled, why this seems to be having such an effect on her. She jumps back up. “I’ll get Ruby!”

 

Mary Margaret looks up in confusion. “We’re not in any hurry, Emma. We haven’t even thought about what to eat yet.”

 

“It’s not like the menu’s going to be radically different from any of the other times you’ve been here,” Regina comments wryly. Mary Margaret pulls a face at her.

 

“Exactly!” Emma says brightly. “Besides, it’s rammed in here. There’s probably gonna be a wait so we’d better order quickly.”

 

She scoots off to find Red, who she spots behind the counter, seemingly caught up in her thoughts and paying little attention to the demands of the customers around her, or to her grandmother’s frequently barked orders.

 

“Hey Ruby,” she smiles, settling on a stool in front of the other woman.

 

“Oh, hey Emma.” She looks so forlorn Emma is immediately concerned.

 

“What’s going on, are you ok? You look like you just lost your puppy.”

 

Ruby smiles ruefully. “No, I’m fine. Just a little… bummed out. I was supposed to be moving out to my own place finally, but it sort of… fell through.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I found a great place- two bedrooms, a den, lots of light, close to the water- you know, the kind of place that _never_ comes up in Storybrooke. And I signed the lease, and Belle was gonna move in with me- you know she left Gold?”

 

“I didn’t, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

 

“Well they got back together again.”

 

“How did he manage to swing that?” Regina’s voice is so close to Emma’s ear she nearly jumps out of her skin, spinning around to be met with a reprimanding look. “You can’t just abandon me with the two idiots.”

 

“You ok, Em?” Ruby asks, looking between Regina and Emma with an amused and unnervingly knowing expression. Emma struggles to compose herself, shifting to allow Regina to join the conversation.

 

“So Gold worked his magic on Belle?” Regina asks, seemingly unaware of the effect she’s having on Emma, and with more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. People will forgive that man anything.

 

“I guess so...” Ruby dodges, thinking that this isn’t the time to bring up the literal source of the magic involved: Tinkerbelle and her soulmate spell. Ruby’s already screwed up enough lately, revealing information she apparently wasn’t supposed to. She cringes when she thinks of how Marian’s eyes had gone wide, and how her face had crumpled, and how she’d fled the diner as Ruby called after her. Marian had come back a few hours later, eyes red, expression drawn, and carrying a small bundle containing all her worldly possessions, asking if Granny could possibly spare a room at her bed and breakfast. Not that she had any money, but she promised to work in the kitchen at the diner to earn her keep. She was completely alone, having left Roland with his father; the boy loved her, but he barely knew her. Ruby’s heart broke at the fallout from her careless words. No, things were not going awesomely at the moment.

 

“They’re giving it another shot,” she continues, “and that means I can’t afford my new place, which means I have to break the lease, and I’ll be staying with my grandmother after all. And I am just too goddamn old to be living at home.”

 

“Yes, living with parents can feel somewhat limiting after a certain age,” Regina agrees, looking pointedly at Emma. “Weren’t you just saying you wanted to find your own place, Emma?”

 

Emma takes the prompting; opportunities like this don’t come up often in Storybrooke.

 

“Yeah, I was looking for a place with Henry, you know before… And since then I guess I’ve just not been very focused on the whole apartment-hunting thing. What’s the rent like at this place?”

 

“$1,200 a month.”

 

“That cheap!”

 

“Cheap for a sheriff, maybe. It’s kindof up there for a server’s salary. But I could’ve made it work with Belle paying half.”

 

“How about with a sheriff paying half?”

 

Ruby brightens immediately. Emma’s not Belle; this isn’t the dream she’d envisioned. But it’s still the possibility of getting out on her own finally, and Emma’s a good friend.

 

“Maybe you could show me the place tomorrow,” Emma continues. “We could see if it’s a good fit?”

 

“Sounds great!”

 

“Oh I’m so proud. You girls are finally growing up!” Regina quips acerbically.

 

Ruby gives her a look. “Why don’t I take your order, Mayor Mills?”

 

\---

 

Emma was right about the food taking a while with the diner being so busy. By the time it arrives, Neal has woken up and he’s fussing and cranky, even after Mary Margaret gives him a feed. She and David take turns passing him back and forth so each can eat their meal before it gets cold, but he won’t settle. And then with Storybrooke being the small town that it is, various residents take the opportunity to interrupt the family meal with questions for the sheriffs and the mayor about cleanup and redevelopment and town safety. After Mary Margaret’s fork is interrupted on the way to her mouth for the fifth time by Neal’s cries, and with David having been called away to an adjoining table for a discussion about perimeter patrol, Regina steps in and scoops up the infant, who immediately quiets as she walks back and forth across the diner. David makes it back to his rapidly-cooling dinner, and he and Snow ravenously shovel it down like wolves.

 

Emma smiles at their singular focus and excuses herself to join Regina, who is being gazed at with a baby’s huge blue eyes.

 

“Think he kinda looks like me?” Emma asks, peering at the gurgling child.

 

“A little.” Regina considers them side by side, before whispering conspiratorially to Neal, “You’re much better looking than your sister though.”

 

“Hey!” Emma gives her arm a playful wack, and Regina gives her that smile again that makes her a little weak at the knees.

 

She’s so focused on this strange feeling and how beautiful Regina is looking right now that she doesn’t initially hear what the other woman is saying. But she snaps to attention when Regina makes to pass her little brother, backing up slightly, and instantly regretting having made her discomfort so obvious.

 

Regina doesn’t look surprised though, she just smiles gently and says encouragingly, “He won’t bite.”

 

“I know,” Emma studies her boots. “I just find it weird, being around him. I have all these conflicting memories of Henry as a baby, and it’s just worse around Neal- more confusing I mean. I guess just seeing my parents with him makes me think of my own experience, and then I just feel overwhelmed with different sets of memories.”

 

Regina nods understandingly, appreciating the way that Emma seems happy to just tell her things now; that she’s lost some of her guardedness. But no, she reminds herself; they’re only talking about some things. Safe things. Shared memories, shared difficulties, shared pain. Not the fact that she and Emma were nemesis until not long ago. Not the fact that all their differences were swept aside in the wake of Henry, and now loom ominously just outside of every trusting moment and honest confidence. She feels the weight of Emma’s lonely and confused childhood every day. And she recognizes the shadow of guilt that crosses Emma’s face whenever they see Robin. And those are just the issues they’ve actually attempted to address; they each have so much baggage that they’ve never even acknowledged. Regina pushes the doubts and fears aside, trying to focus on the present. On the little boy who isn’t Henry. On the woman desperately seeking reassurance that she isn’t already too broken for this.

 

“The confusion will fade. And it will get easier as you make new memories with Neal; as you establish a relationship with him so that you see him as a separate person and not just a baby, or a reminder of Henry. And besides, he’s going to need his big sister. With those two raising him,” she nods towards Charming and Snow who seem to be having a Lady and the Tramp moment over their meatballs, “he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

 

Emma laughs, but she takes Regina’s words to heart. She does need to get over this. She steps gingerly forward again, putting out her arms to take the child. Holding a baby is familiar to her; she knows how to do this. The closeness of Regina fills her head as she steps forward to slide Neal over into her arms and she allows herself to get lost in the different scents; coconut moisturizer; lavender laundry detergent; rosemary shampoo. Emma smiles down at the little boy in her arms, and looks up to beam at Regina, full of pride at her small accomplishment.

 

Back at their table Mary Margaret has David’s arm in a vice-like grip. He yelps in surprise and looks up reproachfully, expecting to be chastised for taking the last meatball. But his wife is staring across the room in amazement to where their daughter rocks their son in her arms.

 

“Wow,” he murmurs. “See? I told you she’d come around. She just needed some time to get used to him.”

 

“It was Regina,” Snow responds with certainty, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude to this woman, and then abruptly with sorrow over how much pain they had caused each other over the years. She tries to make up for it by being the most vocal Regina-supporter, but even she can hear how flat her words sound; how hollow and false, as if she can just wipe away the things she has done to Regina by being her biggest cheerleader now. As if she can just accept how much Regina stole from her by simply willing it to be so. Her stomach tightens uncomfortably. Everything with Regina has always been so complicated. One of these days, she is going to have to sit down with her former stepmother and really deal with everything that had happened between them. Perhaps in therapy with Archie. She almost laughs aloud at the preposterousness of her own idea- Regina would never agree to that. She doesn’t feel angry and hurt about this woman any more, but she doesn’t know how to move on to the next phase. She has no idea what that would even look like. And she feels the pressure building to figure it out; with the way Regina’s relationship to Emma is changing so rapidly, Snow knows she’s going to have to deal with her own feelings soon.

 

“You know, I’m really glad that they have each other.” David’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and she looks at him, surprised.

 

“Now there’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” she smiles, but she can see her conflicted emotions reflected in his own expression.

 

“I know,” he smiles back uncertainly. “We should… talk, about all this,” he makes an expansive gesture, indicating Regina, and Emma, and their baby son, and the town at large. “Now that things have settled down a bit. Now that it’s been almost two weeks since something last tried to kill us or teleported us to another dimension. Might be a good time to take stock. Reassess some priorities. Figure out… where we go from here.”

 

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”

 

\---

 

Later that night, when everyone has returned home, bursting with meatballs and full of questions about how to navigate new and redefined relationships, two people meet in secret in the darkness, making their way through the night to begin their work. They made a deal, you see; a metaphorical contract was signed, and the lost love is back at home with her new husband. And so the husband slips through the darkness of the forest, to repay the engineer of his good fortune with the storm she requested.

 

Clouds gather, slipping across the bright full moon and shrouding them in darkness. The rain starts to fall, becoming quickly heavier and more aggressive as thunder rolls and lightning forks through the crackling night air.

  
Unaware of the gathering storm, Emma lies in bed trying to drift off to sleep. In the quiet anonymity of night, she allows her mind to wander to things she doesn't let herself to consider in the cold light of day. The shape of Regina’s lips when she smirks, the little scar whose origin she often wonders about, the scent of her hair, the curve of her legs in her impractical but killer shoes, the tightness of her blouse, the way her body moves as she walks, the dip at her throat where the colour rises up when she’s embarrassed or angry or flattered and self-conscious… Emma would never allow herself to actually dwell on these things, these secret almost unconscious thoughts that creep in during her days with Regina, and are quickly pushed away. But it’s late and she’s falling asleep and she permits herself this little indulgence, which doesn't really mean anything after all, because in the quiet of night without all the distractions of daily life, thoughts of Henry, longing for Henry, grief over Henry, can so easily overtake her. So who really cares if her thinking of Regina’s form-hugging dresses is somewhat inappropriate? It’s nice to think of something good. And so what if she might have a slight crush on Regina; it’s not like she’s going to act on it. And it doesn't really mean anything anyway.


	12. Roommates

 

By morning the town has received a thorough dousing and the rain has cleared, giving way to a crisp morning of blue skies. But the storm seems to have dropped its heaviest rainfall on the forest; the ground is practically a bog throughout, and it won’t dry under the shady protection of the trees. Meanwhile the Merry Men’s camp looks more like a lake; their tents flooded and their tree houses blown apart by the gale-force winds that tore through the trees the night before.

 

Emma stares at the mess in amazement when she arrives with David after receiving a call at the station alerting them to the hurricane that seems to have ripped through the forest. The town doesn’t seem to have got anywhere near this level of rain, and there is certainly no evidence on the streets of the kinds of winds that could do this kind of damage. Weather is so strangely specific sometimes…

 

She watches the men trying to salvage their soaked belongings; wringing out clothes and pulling bits of tent out of trees. Little John crouches over saturated wood, trying to start a fire. With the rapidly dropping fall temperatures and the remaining wind, it’s going to be freezing out here even without factoring in the lack of shelter and dry ground. The Merry Men will have to move into town, at least for now. Especially the Lost Boys- they can’t have kids sleeping outside in this kind of weather. It was probably inevitable; the Merry Men are perhaps used to spending winters outside, but the boys, having lived on their tropical island with Pan, have no such experience. Better get their living situation sorted out as quickly as possible, and ideally in a more permanent setting. Emma can read the misgiving on the boys’ faces, and she recognises it. They’ve made a home here, and they are very attached to each other. She knows what it’s like to be uprooted and torn away from your friends and the family you’d got used to. She didn’t bring these boys back from Neverland to give them Storybrooke’s version of the foster system. She’s going to do everything in her power to make sure they are placed with good families, and in longterm homes, and-- preferably-- with at least one other Lost Boy.

 

It’s going to take some time to figure all that out. In the meantime, she wonders about enlisting Blue and the rest of the nuns to supervise the setting up of some cots in the town tall as an emergency shelter. If there’s one thing they can handle, it’s feeding and clothing a bunch of children. Probably best to loop the mayor in on the situation first though; the flooding of half of Storybrooke is something that she should probably be made aware of, Emma reasons, punching the number for Regina on speed-dial and ignoring the way her stomach tightened with the nervous anticipation of hearing Regina’s voice.

 

“Good morning, Miss Swan.” Emma can hear the smile in her voice and she grins giddily in response.

 

“Hey. So we have a bit of a situation.”

 

“Oh?” Regina’s tone sharpens and Emma hurries to reassure her.

 

“It’s nothing bad! Well, nothing that can’t be fixed. The storm last night flooded the forest. Like, specifically the forest. It’s like wading through quicksand out here. The Merry Men’s camp is completely destroyed. They’re all fine, but they can’t stay out here; they’ll have to move into town.” As she speaks she realizes the first place Regina’s mind will go at the mention of the Merry Men: to Robin Hood. She continues quickly, “So top priority is housing for the Lost Boys. We need to get them out of the forest and somewhere warm and dry as quickly as possible; this is no place for kids.”

 

“Certainly not!” Regina sounds horrified at the thought of damp hungry children, and Emma smiles smugly at having successfully diverted her from the topic of Robin.

 

“So I thought we could set up the town hall as an emergency shelter, and enlist the nuns to feed and supervise them, just for a couple nights while I organize more longterm placements with some of the families in town.”

 

“An excellent suggestion,” Regina agrees, and Emma’s heart definitely does not jump in elation at such warm praise. “I will speak to Blue and ensure she gives us her fullest assistance. And I’ll make sure the town hall is prepared for the boys. Perhaps you could commandeer the school bus to transport them? I have a list of potential placements for the boys in progress- something I began working on when we returned from Neverland, but then with the second curse it was never put into action. We have a fairly basic family services program in place, but there’s never been a need for longterm placement of large numbers of children.”

 

Emma listens attentively, trying not to be distracted by how undeniably _hot_ Regina sounds when she takes control. But she’s simultaneously amazed at the fact that Regina’s curse involved the transportation of hundreds of people she intended to punish, to a town with electricity, transit, paved roads, the internet, social assistance programs, and modern medicine. She might have run this town like a dictator, but Emma finds it tough to see that as such an awful thing when she considers how much the residents get out of it.

 

“Granny is in charge of the weekly soup kitchen,” Regina continues. “She should be able to organize emergency meals for the children. We have a food bank of course but I’m sure those supplies will be quickly exhausted. I believe the Merry Men have been drawing on it for some time now.”

 

“I’ll talk to her,” Emma volunteers. “I have to go by the diner anyway to meet Ruby in a bit.”

 

“Oh yes your new roommate!”

 

“Hopefully, depending on what this place is like.”

 

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Emma.”

 

“I don’t think I’m in begging territory just yet.”

 

“Oh really? Tell me, when was the last time you walked in on your parents at an inappropriate moment?” she responds teasingly.

 

Emma had walked in on her parents making out that very morning, which was marginally less disturbing than the breast pump, but still not something she needed to see before she’s even had her first coffee.

 

“Point taken. I’ll call you later about the shelter plans.”

 

She leaves David in charge of rallying the troops and heads back into town to meet Ruby. The apartment, as it turns out, is perfect. It’s bright with huge windows and a view of the bay; a large open-plan living and kitchen area (kindof like Mary Margaret’s but with actual walls cordoning off some private space like bedrooms and a bathroom); there’s even a small den they can use as an office, or a very small guest room, or a craft room, or a weapons closet… Ruby gives a little yelp of excitement when Emma tells her she’s in, and is ready to rush home to repack everything she’d just taken back out of boxes. Emma drops her off at the bed and breakfast so she can speak to Granny about preparing a meal for the kids, arriving just in time to see the Merry Men trooping in. Granny looks thrilled at the sudden boom in business, but Ruby less so.

 

“Shit. Robin’s staying here?”

 

“Got a problem with that, dear?” comes her grandmother’s curt reply.

 

“Well I’m sure Marian won’t appreciate it. She came here to get away from him.”

 

“Well I can’t turn away paying customers. I’m happy to give Marian a bed, even though she can’t afford it; I’m no tirant. But I have to pay the bills somehow!”

 

“Wait,” Emma cuts in. “Why is Marian staying here? Did something happen between her and Robin?”

 

“They had a fight…” Ruby replies unhappily.

 

“Let me guess; about Regina?”

 

Ruby looks at Emma curiously, wondering how much she knows, before deciding it’s not worth risking the fallout if she doesn’t know that Regina and Robin are soulmates. He and Marian could have fought about his relationship with Regina even without that knowledge. And Ruby suspects that Emma wouldn’t be acting so cool if she knew about Tink’s spell; it doesn’t take a werewolf’s keen senses to pick up on the tension between Emma and Regina, and she’s not in a hurry to crush another heart.

 

“Yeah, something like that,” she replies vaguely. “I don’t know where she’ll go if she can’t stay here though. If the forest is flooded and she’s got no money-”

 

“Well maybe this would be an ideal opportunity to make up with her husband?” Granny suggests.

 

“Why do you assume she’s the one who has to do any making up?” Ruby snaps back.

 

Just then Robin appears, lugging a bag of salvaged possessions, and Marian appears at the door. She looks at him in horror, realizing what’s going on, and then bolts before anyone can say anything.

 

“I didn’t know she was staying here,” he looks at them helplessly. “I never would have come if I’d known. She has a right to be here- she was here first. I’ll… stay somewhere else…”

 

It takes Emma all of five seconds to make the mental calculations of his options. There’s only one hotel in town, and that’s Granny’s. She’s about to take every family’s spare room for the Lost Boys. Robin doesn’t really have any other friends in town except… Except Regina, with her big empty house and all its spare rooms… Emma is suddenly gripped with nausea at the idea of Robin staying at Regina’s place. Surely she’d never let him? Surely he wouldn’t ask? Oh my god what if he did?

 

“Maybe Marian could stay with us?” Ruby’s voice cuts through the swirl of panic in Emma’s brain.

 

“Us?” Granny inquires, eyebrows raised.

 

“Yeah, us. Me and Emma,” Red proclaims defiantly. “We’re moving in together.”

 

“And when is this happening?” Granny sounds incredulous that her granddaughter could  actually have finally got herself together to move out on her own.

 

“Well the place is empty, and I’ve already paid for the first month, so right away, if we want.”

 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Emma is suddenly seized with enthusiasm. “We have that spare room- it’s probably only big enough for a single bed and not much else, but if it’s just temporary…” Marian and Robin couldn’t have split up for good. This must just be a small  glitch; an adjustment period, while they get their heads around having been apart for so long. They’d work things out. And Emma would be damned before she let Robin hurt Regina by being indecisive about which woman he wanted to be with. “Robin, you stay here. Marian can stay with us.”

 

This would be good. Give Robin and Marian some space while they worked out their issues; assuage some of her guilt about having brought Marian back here and then just sortof dumping her in this strange new world; and keep Robin away from Regina. Regina has dealt with enough pain lately, Emma reasons; she doesn’t need any more.

 

\---

 

With preparations for the emergency housing well underway, and the Ruby already moving into their new apartment, Emma drives very slowly back to the station to start working on placements for the Lost Boys, but her mind is elsewhere. She’s really doing it- she’s really moving out of her parents’ place. On the one hand, she knows she needs her independence and they need their space. But at the same time, since losing Henry, it’s been a huge comfort to know they are always at home waiting, and her stomach clenches with nervousness at the thought of leaving them, even if she is only moving ten minutes away. She spent so much of her life without them, why is she in such a hurry to leave now? It’s ridiculous; not so long ago she was ready to take Henry and head back to New York; pretend magic didn’t exist and retreat to the normalcy of everyday life. And for a minute she had really believed she could do it; that she was an island, a rock; that she didn’t really need anyone because she had always taken care of herself. She didn’t want to need them. She didn’t want the risk of loving people who could disappoint her. And now she’s so dependant on them that the thought of moving down the street is enough to send her into a cold sweat. She shakes her head, smiling as she suddenly imagines what Regina would say at her indecision.

 

As it turns out she doesn’t have to wonder for long; walking into the sheriff’s office she finds Regina waiting at her desk. Emma’s heart jumps into her mouth at the unexpected visit; when did that start happening anyway? She clearly remembers the jolt of adrenaline she would get in those early days, when running into Regina unexpectedly meant gearing up for a fight. And she was far too familiar with the weight of guilt crashing down on her like a tonne of bricks when seeing Regina was a reminder of her latest screwup. But this is different; this is more like butterflies and sweaty palms and a dry mouth with a voice that comes out in a weird squeak and a desperate urge to flee in the opposite direction.

 

It’s too late for that though; she knows she’s been spotted as Regina turns and rises from her seat to greet her, and her legs feel like jelly as she forces herself to move forward and speak casually.

 

“Hey,” she squeaks, wincing at the bizarre pitch of her voice and swallowing hard before she tries again. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here; everything go ok with the nuns and the townhall?”

 

“Beds are set up and Blue is ready to supervise the boys’ installation in their temporary accommodations,” Regina confirms. “And I called the school; they’ve agreed to let David take the bus to facilitate speedy transportation of the boys and all their belongings.”

 

“I thought I was going to do that?” Emma replies, frowning. Didn’t Regina trust her to do this one simple thing?

 

Regina notes Emma’s ruffled feathers and quickly moves to soothe her. “I had the time, and I knew you were busy coordinating with Granny and you had your apartment viewing with Ruby. I was just trying to simplify things. And now we have more time to strategize about longterm placements for the boys. We want to make sure they’re housed with the right families, and in places they’ll be happy.”

 

Regina can guess how important this is to Emma. Foster placement is not something to be undertaken lightly, and Emma has intimate knowledge of how badly things could go wrong if children were placed without proper forethought, and without the foster families having access to the right resources.

 

“We’re going to do this right,” Regina says firmly, and some of the tension in Emma’s shoulders dissipates, relieved that Regina gets it.

 

“Thank you,” she replies softly, not sure if she means for dealing with the school bus, or for trying to take things off Emma’s plate, or for being there to help with placements, or for understanding why it mattered. Probably all of the above.

 

Regina reaches out to give Emma’s arm a reassuring squeeze and then stops, confused by her impulse to physically show affection, and then suddenly worried that it’s weird, and wondering if Emma thinks it’s weird, and wishing that she hadn’t done anything and had just kept her damn hands to herself. Why does everything feel so laden with meaning these days?

 

She smiles, embarrassed, and sits back down at Emma’s desk, hurrying to smooth over her awkwardness. “But first, tell me: do you have a new place to live?”

 

“I do!” Emma grins, pulling up a second chair and settling opposite Regina. “Ruby’s moving in right now, basically.”

 

“You know, I wasn’t sure you had it in you,” Regina teases.

 

“Well I still might not; I haven’t moved in yet. Haven’t even told my parents…” she avoids the other woman’s gaze but her nervousness is written all over her face.

 

“Second thoughts?” Regina prods gently.

 

“It’s stupid. Ruby’s so excited to get out on her own, have her own place. But I’ve always had that. Since I left the foster system I’ve been by myself. Even before that; I ran away enough times that independence has pretty much been my MO since I was a kid. What I never had was family. And now I do, why am I in such a hurry to get away from it?”

 

“You’re not; you’re moving down the street. Having your own place doesn’t mean leaving your family. It’s not an either/or situation. I guarantee you will still see your parents every day. Storybrooke is not that big a town; it’s basically impossible not to see people unless you hide inside all day.”

 

Emma nods, knowing Regina’s right. But she can’t help saying in a small voice, “I’ll be a guest in their house though. It won’t be my home. But it will be Neal’s home. He’ll grow up there, every day, with his mom and dad.”

 

Regina’s heart sinks. That’s what this is about. It’s what it’s always going to be about; Emma growing up without a family. Emma’s fears of abandonment, of being replaced. Her fear of not being enough. All because of a stupid spell Regina cast when she was so out of her mind from years of pain and grief and trauma that she didn’t know how to do anything but destroy. And there is no taking it back. There could be forgiveness; Emma might not blame her. But that won’t ever undo the fact that Emma grew up alone because of her. That is something Regina will just have to deal with.

 

“Your parents love you,” she says softly, covering Emma’s hand with her own and not even feeling awkward about it this time.

 

“I know,” Emma whispers, looking at Regina’s hand on her own instead of in her eyes, and turning her palm up so that it meets Regina’s, running her fingers slowly back and forth over Regina smooth skin.

 

“And they’re not going to resent you for wanting your own space.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But that doesn’t mean they want you to leave. They’re going to miss you. And Snow will probably come over to your apartment every day to make sure you’re eating properly and to nag you about cleaning your room.”

 

Emma snorts, feeling cheered in spite of herself. She keeps her head bowed self-consciously but risks a glance up at Regina, who is watching her intently, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she pokes fun at Snow. And Emma smiles back shyly, enjoying the feeling of Regina’s hand in hers, taking comfort from Regina’s words, reveling in the attention being lavished on her, and trying very hard not to read into the fact that they are just staring into each other’s eyes and holding hands right now. Because Regina is just being a good friend. And this display of affection is amazing in and of itself; it shows Regina cares about her-- as a friend-- and she never would have imagined this a year ago, or hell, even a few months ago. Never could have known that this gentle, sweet Regina even existed. Never could have hoped that she could be on the receiving end of such affection. And it makes her feel special and wanted in a very dangerous way, so she steels herself and lets go of Regina’s hand, breaking the moment and bringing them back to the safety of reality.

 

“And when you do finally move, let me know and I’ll give you a hand with your things,” Regina tells her magnanimously, trying to hide her disappointment over Emma’s sudden shift in demeanor.

 

“Well most of my things are in New York, but when they get here I could use a hand carrying them up the stairs- we’re on the top floor and there’s no elevator. What’s up with that, by the way? All buildings are built with elevators now- how’d your curse miss that one?”

 

“It was thirty years ago.”

 

“Yeah, thirty, not a hundred!” Emma needles her, grinning.

 

“Well I can assure you I won’t be risking my back lugging boxes full of Ikea furniture. I have an enchantment I can show you that will facilitate… easy transportation.”

 

“It’s not _all_ Ikea,” Emma grumbles. She has no idea what ‘easy transportation’ means, but she’s hoping for some kind of Fantasia-eque mobilization of inanimate objects.

 

Just as she’s about to quiz Regina further, a sobering realization stops her in her tracks. Regina won’t be helping her move in. In fact, Regina might never come to her apartment at all. Not with Marian staying there.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” she breathes.

 

“What?” Regina asks curiously, still smiling, and Emma doesn’t want to speak and see that smile disappear. Doesn’t want to ruin this moment.

 

“Um… I have to tell you something…”

 

The smile fades, becomes wary and guarded. “What is it?”

 

“We um… We’re going to have Marian staying with us for a while.”

 

That’s it. Regina’s face hardens. “Marian?”

 

“Yeah. She and Robin are… having some problems. She was staying at the bed and breakfast, but now with the flooding all the Merry Men have moved in. And she doesn’t want to be where he is.”

 

“So you asked her to stay with you,” Regina finishes bitterly.

 

“Well actually Ruby did, but I think it’s a good idea. I mean I did bring her here; I’m sortof responsible for her.”

 

“Yes, you did bring her here.”

 

Regina’s voice is hard with barely contained frustration, and it triggers all of Emma’s defensiveness. How long are they going to have this argument? She’s not going to apologize for saving a woman’s life. She never meant for that act of altruism to negatively impact Regina, but she wouldn’t take it back.

 

“Yeah, I did,” Emma growls. “And I’d do it again.”

 

“Of course you would,” Regina snaps.

 

“You’re not going to make me feel bad about this. I saved her life! And I’m sorry that you got hurt--”

 

“Oh, you’re sorry! Yes you are always sorry aren’t you, Emma? There always seems to be something you have to apologize for, doesn’t there? And it always seems to be me you’re apologizing to. Why is that?”

 

“Maybe because you did a load of fucked-up shit that it’s my job to put right!” Emma snaps before she can stop herself. How are they fighting? A minute ago they had been gazing into each others’ eyes and holding hands. How are they suddenly screaming at each other now? She had agreed to have Marian stay with her and Ruby so that Regina wouldn’t be forced to deal with Robin. She had been trying to _protect_ Regina. But now she thinks about it, the internal logic of her actions is starting to break down. She alienated Regina by siding with her rival... to protect her?

 

“Right, because you’re the _Saviour_ ” Regina spits out the word with a tone full of disdain. “And I’m the Evil Queen. How hard it must be for you, always having to clean up my messes. Because I just _love_ to cause pain for _absolutely no reason_. I was just born this way, you know, with a penchant for wanton destruction. And it’s your responsibility to put right all my wrongs. What a terrible burden that must be for you.”

 

“I didn’t say that--” Emma starts, trying too late to defuse the situation.

 

“You didn’t need to. It’s clearly what you think. Well allow me to assist you by getting out of your way.”

 

She’s not sure why she’s so angry right now. She doesn’t want Marian to suffer. And she’s not even sure that she’s upset about Robin- after all, isn’t it a good thing that his relationship with his wife is on the rocks? But all she can really think about right now is the fact that Emma didn’t even think about how this might affect her. Because Emma never thinks of Regina. Because Emma has no idea how much she can hurt Regina. And why should she even care? She’s just the Evil Queen; not someone worth caring about.

  
Regina turns on her heel before her tears belie how deeply Emma’s actions have cut her, and stalks out of the sheriff’s office, leaving Emma with a rapidly deflating sense of self-righteous indignation, and a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.


	13. Lost Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abandoned this fic for way too long- I'm sorry! I got caught up with other things, but I am determined to get back to it! Thanks for your patience :)

Mary Margaret noisily does the dishes from breakfast, hoping her clattering will rouse her daughter from her slumber. It seems a little much to go and hammer on the door, calling out that it’s way past time to get up and does she intend to lay about in bed all day? Emma is not a teenager, though her response to such a wakeup call might not be dissimilar, Snow reasons. So she just bangs about in the kitchen instead, making as much noise as she can so sleeping in is impossible. It’s not like she hasn’t snoozed enough already; David left for the station hours ago, and they hadn’t worried about waking Emma as she’d been out half the night at the townhall with the Lost Boys. But it’s almost noon and she’s still in bed, and Snow has been watching Emma like a hawk since Henry’s death, waiting for any sign that grief might be about to overwhelm her, and now all of Mary Margaret’s mothering instincts are sounding alarms in her head.

 

Her banging is having no effect; either Emma is sleeping through this ruckus (which would be very worrying) or she’s ignoring it, and Snow thinks it’s worth the risk of a bit of adolescent-inspired temper to find out. After all, how many times did she kick Emma out of bed at noon before the curse broke and they were just roommates? She’s a seasoned professional at managing grumpy-morning-Emma.

 

She knocks gently at her bedroom door, conciliatory mug of coffee in one hand and a bagel with cream cheese balanced on the other.

 

“I’m up!” comes Emma’s defensive response. “You can stop whatever DIY you were doing in the kitchen.”

 

Mary Margaret nudges the door open with her foot and carries her offerings to where Emma sits in the middle of her bed, wrapped in blankets and frowning at her computer.

 

“Just bringing you breakfast!” her mother lies, settling next to her and trying not to let Emma’s grabby hands spill the coffee. She peers at the document displayed on the screen. “What is that?”

 

“Regina,” Emma replies by way of explanation.

 

First thing that morning her email alarm had sounded to let her know she had received a detailed policy document on Storybrooke child support and placement protocols, along with assessments of potential suitable families, a budget for each child, and a tearse suggestion that Emma spend some time with the boys to figure out which temperaments would fit best with with family. It’s far more thorough than anything Emma managed to accomplish yesterday afternoon, but of course it is; this is what Regina does. And of course the mayor wouldn’t let a falling out with Emma derail her efforts at due diligence. Emma’s grateful for that; although she wishes they had worked together. Both doing the same work in different places makes absolutely no sense. As it happens though, they seem to instinctively have a good sense of each others’ strong suits, because Emma had already done just as Regina suggested, abandoning her fruitless efforts at developing a placement list, and instead spending the previous evening with the Lost Boys in their temporary accommodations, getting to know them a little better and reassuring them about their fate now that they were out of the Merry Men’s camp. So many huge dark eyes staring up at her warily. She recognized the haunted look she saw there so well. It’s like when she was trying to find a place for Ava and Nick that would allow them to stay together, but this time with twenty kids depending on her. She takes a big gulp of coffee, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach that always forms when she has to be The Saviour and she has no idea if she’s up to the task, but failure is not an option.

 

Just then her email pings with the receipt of a message from Ruby; it’s a photo of the view from their living room window, snapped on Ruby’s first morning in their new place. It’s beautiful, looking straight out over the water which is dappled with the golden flecks of sunrise, and Emma should feel excited but her stomach just twists again as she remembers today’s other responsibility: letting down her parents.

 

“That’s pretty,” Mary Margaret stares at the screen. “Is that down by the docks?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma grimaces. “It’s Ruby’s new place. Actually it’s mine and Ruby’s new place….”

 

Her mother looks up sharply.

 

“I’m moving out?” It comes out like a request for permission, and she knows her anticipation of Mary Margaret’s negative response is already written all over her face but she still rushes to soften the blow, needing her mother to understand, to not be mad, to not think badly of her. “Not that I don’t love being here with you and dad and Neal, I really do! But I think we all need a little more space, you know? And I’ll be, like, ten minutes away, tops. We’ll see each other all the time.”

 

“Oh, of course we will!” Mary Margaret jumps in sensing Emma’s need for approval but also in no hurry for her to leave at such a fragile time. Not living with Emma, she wouldn’t be able to keep such a close eye on her daughter. “We knew you’d be moving to your own place at some point. But Emma, are you sure you’re ready? So soon after Henry…”

 

“Yeah, I think I need it. I think I need to start figuring out what my life is going to look like now without him in it… And I won’t be by myself; I’ll have Ruby,and we’ve got Marian staying with us too.”

 

“Marian?” her mother frowns quizzically. “She’s not staying at Granny’s with Robin and the rest of the Merry Men?”

 

“No, they’re having some problems. They’re sortof spending some time apart to figure things out.”

 

“Ah.” Mary Margaret watches Emma closely as she probes, “Because of Regina?”

 

Emma looks at her mother with equal interest, wondering what she knows, and how Emma can find out without appearing too invested. The Regina-Robin thing was clearly a big deal; it wasn’t just a few dates in Storybrooke, but no one was talking about the events of the lost year. Regina had been furious with her when she brought Marian back; had been distraught even. But now she seems almost at peace with it. Except Regina is never at peace with anything; she feels things so keenly, Emma can’t believe she had just shrugged off the pain of a ruined relationship in the wake of Henry’s loss and their need to fight Zelena. Things had been temporarily reprioritized; other new and more significant loss had taken precedence. But that doesn’t mean Regina doesn’t care about Robin.

 

Her mother is peering closely at her, sensing something more to this story. “What is it, Emma?” she prompts gently.

 

Emma sighs. “Can you, like, just be my best friend and roommate for a minute, and not my mother? Like we were before?”

 

“OK,” Mary Margaret responds with more confidence than she actually feels.

 

It doesn’t take much to convince her daughter to open up; Snow has known Regina longer than anyone else, and is probably closest to her as well, in spite of- or perhaps because of- their long feud. Plus, Snow was with Regina during that year in the Enchanted Forest and must know all about what went on between Regina and Robin. Subtle probing over the last few months hadn’t illuminated anything more about their relationship. Perhaps it was time to confide in her mother and be more forthright?

 

“Regina and I had a fight,” Emma begins carefully, gauging how much to reveal by her mother’s reaction.

 

“About Marian staying with you?”

 

Emma nods. “She thinks I’m picking sides. But Marian and Robin weren’t going to stay in the same place, so either Marian would be out on the street or Robin would. And what if Robin asked to stay at Regina’s? It would be so unfair of him to put her through that while things are still unresolved with his wife.”

 

“You really think he would have asked that of her?”

 

“What choice would he have? He has no where else to go.”

 

“I don’t know Robin that well, but from what I do know I’d say he’d rather sleep on the street than put Regina in that position. He’s a good man.”

 

“They were pretty serious, huh?” Emma asks nonchalantly. “That year in the Enchanted Forest; Regina and Robin were like a pretty big deal?”

 

“Regina didn’t exactly confide in me,” Snow responds carefully. “But they seemed close. Regina seemed… not happy exactly, but open to the possibility of a future, which- considering she’d just lost Henry- was… significant. She wasn’t doing so well when we first got back. She took a lot of risks… She didn’t seem to put a very high value on her life.”

 

Emma frowns in concern, but Mary Margaret’s not done. “She actually started doing a lot better when Zelena showed up; when she had a task to focus on, someone to hate.”

 

“Anger’s always been a good motivator for Regina,” Emma agrees.

 

“But then we got back here, and she was reunited with Henry, and I think that just made her a lot more open to the possibility of a happy ending- that things might work out for her.”

 

“And then I brought back her boyfriend’s wife, and her son was murdered by her sister-”

 

“And her closest friend invited her boyfriend’s wife to live with her,” Snow finishes.

 

Emma stares at her. “So you think I did the wrong thing by helping Marian?”

 

“No of course not! Marian needs support more than anyone right now, and I think you were absolutely right to offer her a place to stay. Regina will understand that, even if she doesn’t love the idea. She’s just lost a lot lately, and there weren’t that many people that she trusts to begin with. She’s probably just concerned that she can’t go to your new place without having to face Marian. I know your relationship is important to her. She probably feels a little like she’s lost you too.”

 

That familiar sinking feeling is back in Emma’s stomach. “I just assumed she was still mad about me bringing Marian back, and ruining her relationship. You really think this might be about… me and her?”

 

“I think that the two of you have become close, and that she really values your… friendship,” Mary Margaret answers carefully.

 

Emma watches her mother carefully, wondering what she might be implying, and trying to ignore the little jump of her heart at the idea that Regina might value her more than Robin. But it’s ridiculous to feel competitive with Robin about Regina’s affections; they’re completely different people with completely different relationships to the woman. It’s just… easier when Robin isn’t around. Less confusing for Regina, Emma tells herself.

 

Her mother takes her hand, squeezing her fingers sympathetically. “Things are always going to be… complicated with Regina. There’s a lot of history; a lot of baggage. And there’s guilt and blame on both sides. It’s never going to be easy.”

 

“So what do I do?”

 

“You have to talk. You have to talk about everything. Open, honest communication; it’s the only way to avoid misunderstandings and to make sure what you think is the right thing, really is the right thing. And you have to trust her to make her own decisions.You can’t protect her from Robin, and Regina’s the only one who can decide how to handle that situation. I know it’s hard to accept, but that’s something they have to deal with between themselves. All you can do is be there to support her when she asks for it. She’s not the person she was; she knows there are people who have her back now. You just need to make sure she knows that, regardless of your friendship with Marian, you’re one of them.”

 

“Sounds like a year in the Enchanted Forest did wonders for your relationship with Regina,” Emma quips. She had not expected Mary Margaret to be so open-minded. “Have many heart-to-hearts while sitting around a campfire roasting squirrel?”

 

Mary Margaret looks at her daughter with distaste. “First of all, we did not eat squirrel. You might have forgotten but I am quite an accomplished hunter; we ate deer and wild boar. And yes actually, I think Regina and I did reach something of a new understanding over the last year. We’re a work in progress. But we’re talking more, and learning to listen better; learning to not get defensive but try to really hear each other instead. It’s tough. It’s always going to be difficult.”

 

“But it’s worth it?”

 

Her mother smiles, wondering if there’s actually any doubt in Emma’s mind that fighting for a relationship with Regina is worth it. “Regina has been a huge part of my life since I was a child. She’s family. And for a long while I wanted to just walk away; sometimes that’s the best thing to do, for your own mental and emotional well-being. But in the end, that I don’t believe that’s the right move for Regina and I. I think a relationship can be salvaged; that something new and good can grow out of the mess of our pasts. It’s not going to be easy, but I think that’s what we both want.”

 

Emma nods, filled with renewed confidence. If Snow and Regina can move past decades of murderous intent, she can deal with this little Marian hiccup.

 

* * *

The opportunity to smooth things over comes sooner than she thought. Arriving at the emergency shelter to see the Lost Boys, Emma feles Regina’s presence before she actually sees her, the now familiar vibration of Regina’s magic pulsing through her as soon as she steps out of the car. Trying to ignore the way her stomach twists in nervous anticipation, she heads inside to find the boys and the rest of the Merry Men lining up at Granny’s makeshift soup kitchen for what looks to be a bowlful of chili, not unlike Granny had almost thrown all over Emma a few weeks before. Back when she was apparating all over town in what, looking back, she can only see as a fairly transparent attempt to impress Regina. Regina who, at that moment is sitting with Robin Hood and Roland. Emma sucks in a sharp breath as her nervousness crumples into something more like bitter disappointment. Regina’s eyes snap up, suddenly aware of her presence, and she blushes like she’s been caught out, which Emma decides to take as a good sign because at least Regina’s not glaring daggers at her, which means maybe her mother was right and Regina’s not mad so much as hurt.

 

As she tentatively approaches, Regina murmurs something to Robin before excusing herself. Emma doesn’t miss the way his eyes following longingly after her as Regina makes her way over to Emma. What a screwed up situation; Emma can’t help feeling bad for the man, torn between the woman he thought he’d lost and the one he recently found, even as she wishes he would just work things out with Marian and leave Regina alone. Not that she wanted Regina to be unhappy, but she could be happy with someone else…

 

“Hey,” she smiles nervously as Regina comes to stand beside her. “Looks like Granny has everything under control here.”

 

The other woman nods, turning to watch the boys enthusiastically shoveling food into their mouths as a way of avoiding looking at Emma. She can’t help but want to accept whatever olive branch Emma is here to offer, even as all her defense mechanisms are screaming at her to put up her walls before she gets hurt again. But Emma’s pulling her puppydog face and Regina knows it’s not a question of _if_ but _when_ she forgives the other woman.

 

“Listen, Regina, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean them; I was just lashing out. And I’m sorry I made you feel bad about Marian; I was just trying to do right by her. And by you too.” Regina raises an eyebrow at that last comment but Emma soldiers on, hoping that if she talks enough her meaning will become clear. “I know things are screwed up for you right now with Marian and Robin. And I don’t know what the deal is between them or what he wants, and maybe he doesn’t know either. I just figured that if they need some space to work things out, that maybe I could help with that. And the sooner he figures things out, the sooner you’ll know where you stand.”

 

“You’re assuming I’m just waiting around for him to decide whether or not he wants to be with me?”

 

“Of course not. Besides, the question isn’t _whether_ he wants to be with you; why wouldn’t he?” Emma blushes, avoiding Regina’s eye. “But I was assuming that you still want to be with him…?” She leaves the question hanging, and her heart sinks a little as Regina turns to look back at Robin somewhat wistfully.

 

The truth is, Regina doesn’t know what she wants any more. Her future looked so bright and full of possibility a few months ago, but now Henry is gone and she doesn’t really see how she could ever be truly happy again. And since Marian’s return Robin has been so different, and it's so painfully clear that he’d had a whole other life before they met; all this history with this other woman. Nothing feels the same between them now. But didn’t she owe it to herself to try and work things out? He's her second chance at a happy ending after all; her soulmate. Does she even _have_ a choice? Maybe she’ll never find happiness again if not with Robin. The only time she really feels close to happy these days is when she's around Emma, but even that's getting more complicated now that Emma has put herself right in the middle of Robin and Marian’s relationship. And really, Emma is not a part of this equation; Regina’s options are to choose Robin and a chance at happiness, or turn away from him like she had almost forty years ago and be prepared to spend the rest of her life alone. Emma doesn't even factor in; pixie dust told her it was Robin or nothing, and pixie dust doesn’t lie.

 

But she won’t say any of this to Emma, who just sees Regina looking miserably at Robin and assumes the answer to the question she had only half-dared to ask. That of course Regina wants to be with Robin. Whatever had happened between them in the year she was away, it was a big deal. Robin is clearly in love with Regina, and she must have loved him too. Probably still does.

 

“Well anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about yesterday. And I’m still your friend, no matter what.”

 

“Emma,” Regina calls after the other woman as she turns to leave. “I’m sorry too. This…” she gestures vaguely between herself and Robin, “this isn’t your fault.”

 

Emma nods. “Well, you know I’m always here if you need me.”

 

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs as Emma walks away, unaware of the look on Regina’s a face as she watches her leave, full of a sadness that mirrors her own.

 

 


End file.
